


Becoming Complacent

by potionsandtea



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, Kidnapping, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:54:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 92,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23174269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potionsandtea/pseuds/potionsandtea
Summary: Five years after the death of Albus Dumbledore, the world fell into chaos. The Death Eaters and Purebloods controlled the Ministry. When Hermione Granger is taken prisoner by Severus Snape, she had no idea just how much the situation would change not only her, but also the man that now held her life in his hands.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 16
Kudos: 55





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written in 2006. It takes all but the Horcrux issue into account. After reading HBP, we as an audience were left to wonder if Snape was actually bad, or was there some deeper meaning and reasons for his actions. I ran with the idea that he could be bad, but that sneaky suspicion remained that deep down, he was good. Everything in this story was written before DH came out.
> 
> I obviously have taken my sweet time before finally deciding to share this story. It is finished, so critique on improvement will do no good. Of course, I do hope to hear how you like it!
> 
> THERE IS NO SMUT. I know this will disappoint quite a few people, but I do not see the point in writing porn. Sorry! This story focuses on character development, and being able to explain the reasons for a relationship.
> 
> It had no beta, only my husband to proof-read for grammatical and punctuation error.
> 
> Extreme gratitude for my dear friend JD who helped dramatically with the characterisation of Snape.
> 
> I do not own the rights to these characters.

Harry Potter was dead, and Ginny was finally starting to realize he wasn't coming back.

The Order meeting had been a haze. There were only a few people there- the ruins of what had once been, all tucked away in the flat above Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, when the news had come. Ron, bursting in bloodstained and battered had given the message. Harry Potter was dead.

And Lucius Malfoy had just proclaimed himself Minister of Magic. Finally, the purebloods were taking over. Now, all Order members were outlaws- wanted dead or alive for a reward issued by Lord Malfoy himself.

Ginny could not have been more confused.

Two hours, sixteen minutes, and thirty eight seconds ago, she had been happy, engaged, and free. She could have walked down Diagon Alley, with some danger, yes, but with Auror protection as well. But now, things had changed. There was no golden hero to unite the wizarding world together. Now, it was every man for himself. And every man was certainly looking for a little income boost in this great depression. Who wouldn't want that reward? Who wouldn't be willing to turn them in?

And Harry- her Harry, the Boy Who Lived, the man she was going to marry- was dead.

She couldn't even bring herself to cry. She just sat there- pale and pasty from shock, at the small kitchen table of Fred and George's flat, unable to move. There was no sobbing, no shouting, no wailing. There was nothing. Ginny was nothing. Harry was gone. Harry, who she had lived her life for since the age of ten, was gone.

She had always waited for him to return before. She had always been scared he would not come back. But somewhere, in the back of her head, she always knew he would.

Forget optimism.

Everyone around her was moving- packing, running, ready to go off into hiding. It was a mad rush and Ginny's feet would not work. They were coming, she knew that- the new Ministry, the purebloods- the Death Eaters. They were about to arrive. And Ginny would have waited for them- waited for them to come and to end the awful nothingness she felt. She wasn't even sad or angry or upset. She was just... nothing.

And she would have died as nothing, if not for the cool hand she felt on her shoulder.

Hermione had been in the back with Fred and George, working on her latest Wolfsbane batch as the twins worked on whatever it was they felt the need to invent or perfect that night. She could hear the meeting outside the room, in the small kitchen.

The door to the flat had burst open, demanding her attention regardless of the potion at hand. She peeked out of the door, one hand holding her wand while the other remained over the cauldron, about to add the third to last ingredient. It was Ron. Just the sight of him made her drop the entire bottle into the cauldron, which caused a miniature emergency that thankfully Fred had been so watchful of as to dispose of before it got out of hand. She mumbled a thanks to him as they all three moved through the doorway and into the kitchen.

The news that followed was something Hermione had come to fear for years. Ron was beside himself, bloody and beaten. As silent tears instantly fell from her eyes, she slowly turned to look at Ginny. They had been engaged, something she knew Ginny had dreamed of ever since she was eleven years old.

Her hand came up to her mouth as she tried to calm herself down. Fred gave her a short hug before joining his brother in helping Ron. Remus stood and left the room, there really was no telling where he was going. He had lost more than anyone now. The pain was immense, yes, but somehow the knowledge that she knew it was going to happen sooner or later seemed to numb her pain a bit. Slowly, she attempted to calm herself and walked to stand behind Ginny.

She placed her hand on the other girl's shoulder, and to her surprise she was not crying or shaking like Hermione was. She took a deep, shaky breath.

"Ginny?"

Ginny didn't have to look up to know who it was. She could identify Hermione's voice easily, even as it shook. The hand on her shoulder felt strangely foreign, almost as if it was a sort of chilly air rather than flesh and blood. It snapped her back and she looked up to see what was really happening- Ron bleeding into Fred's arms, and George throwing everything of note into a thick sack as fast as he could.

The realization came harsher than Ginny would have liked. She turned her head back to Hermione.

“We're fucked," she said bluntly, looking up at the shivering girl. The red head could hear the words echoing in her head. We're fucked. It was true. Harry was gone. And who would save her now?

She had always depended on Harry to take care of her. In a way, everyone had depended on Harry. What a sick joke this was. Maybe this was punishment for being selfish, for wearing the poor man down. Maybe it was a way to teach them all, you could only really depend on yourself.

And nobody but Ginny could save herself from the purebloods about to come knocking on that door.

She had the sudden urge to scream, but bit it back. Now was not the time. She had to get out of there. Abruptly, Ginny stood, heading towards the hall closet where she had hung her cloak. She had to get out, and now. And she was going to, right as she pulled out her grey cloak, but she saw Hermione's next to hers. The red head looked back to the older girl, still shaken from the news.

Ginny could leave, could get out right now and was sure to be safe though she had no idea where to go. She could finally depend on herself for once and maybe that was the best idea. But looking at Hermione and back on that cloak, Ginny had a feeling it wasn't.

Fred and George could take care of Ron- Ginny knew that, but they were too flustered to take Hermione with them. She couldn't just leave her on her own, could she? It wasn't like Hermione wasn't a capable witch. She was better than Ginny by far. Surely she could fend for herself.

But something told Ginny that two witches were better than one, especially when one of them was Hermione.

A sudden stab of wanting hit her. Oh, how Ginny wished Harry was here. He always knew what to do. And finally the water appeared behind her eyes, but she blinked it back.

What would Harry have her do?

She threw the cloak to the girl, "Know anywhere we can go?"

She looked from Ginny to Fred and George, then to Ron, who was not even registering much of anything at that point. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but it was too late. Remus had gone, the twins were with Ron, and Ginny was.. what was Ginny doing? Her blurry vision managed to find the younger girl, who was tossing a cloak at her. That's right, they had to leave. But where?

"N-no… I mean, well, no, I don't... Where should we-?" But before Hermione could finish her sentence, the front door was blasted open, sending chunks of wood flying into the room that connected directly to the kitchen. Wand in hand, she lunged forward, placing herself directly in front of Ginny. Two dark figures stalked into the flat, advancing quickly on the two girls. Hermione began backtracking through the kitchen door into the back room she had been in with the twins before Ron had shown up. She sent two or three well-placed hexes in their attacker's direction only to have them blocked perfectly, before they even got close. Her eyes grew wide as realization hit her.

"It's him- go, quickly!" Hermione turned and pushed the other girl along, though she knew it was too late. No spell she could throw would ever reach that man. They had failed. She grabbed Ginny's arm as the two made their desperate attempt at escaping. Damn the anti-apparition wards. In the sudden insanity, she had no time to concentrate on trying to remove them.

The bigger of the two men bared his teeth as he blocked the hexes sent his way, watching as the two girls scrambled to escape. With an expression of supreme confidence, he cast 'Stupefy' at the retreating figures. While it would be a shame if they missed out on the rest of the group, these two alone would make the operation worthwhile once caught- and he had no doubt.

Draco fell in behind Severus, the man's figure and skill protecting him from any hexes thrown their way as they advanced on the two girls. He had hoped to catch Ron at least, but these two were more than adequate, especially the younger one... Oh, how she had frustrated him at Hogwarts. He smirked behind his hood as Severus sent hexes flying at the girls as they tried to escape to no avail.

The blast had thrown Ginny off and she had not yet recovered. Had Hermione not been there, the red head was entirely sure she would not be still around.

Blindly, she followed Hermione through the flat, jumping out of the way as the bushy haired girl threw curses at their attackers. All of them failed. Suddenly a great fear started creeping over Ginny. She was scared- horribly, horribly scared because if Hermione couldn't hurt these wizards, who could?

As the first tears streamed down her face, she sent a curse- the only curse she could think of- over her shoulder- a Bat Bogey Hex at the second figure. She didn't know why she did it. There really was no use and she knew that. Again, it was artfully blocked.

_It’s him- go, quickly!_

Ginny felt Hermione's hand over her wrist and pulled forward, moving as quickly as she could behind the older girl, "Who-?" Ginny said frantically, looking back to make out the figures, but Hermione only tugged her harder. As they turned the corner, a curse hit, shattering the plaster and Ginny shut her eyes. When she opened them again, they were in the backroom. It was a dead end.

Ginny looked frantically around for something- anything, to help them escape. Sofa? Lamp? Dungbombs? There was one sitting on the coffee table and Ginny grabbed it in her hands, reminding herself to hug Fred and George next time she saw them- that is, if she saw them again.

"Hermione," she said hurriedly, trying to get the girl's attention and holding up the distraction. "I'll drop it. If we can just get to the window-" She looked to the paned glass across the room. Hopefully, they could get out of it somehow. It looked like their only hope.

Again, she wished Harry was here.

She saw them coming into the room, and she threw down the bomb, putrid odor invading her nostrils. With Hermione in tow, she felt her way through the stench, hoping to make it to the window. It was too late, however, as she saw a second curse soaring their way. Ginny screamed, feeling the brunt of the spell hit her, and then collapsing onto Hermione as she fought to maintain consciousness.

Hermione couldn't help the scream that left her throat as she was sent flying to the ground face first, Ginny landing on top of her roughly. She squirmed underneath the younger girl, struggling to get her back behind her as she herself tried desperately to get to her feet as the two dark figures closed in on them.

"No!" She covered Ginny with her arms and turned her face away from their attackers. It was over.

The bigger of the two cast a spell to clear off the horrid odor of the bomb as he spotted the girls on the floor. He sneered as he threw Hermione away from Ginny- none too gently. "Watch these while I check the rest of the House."

He rushed out of the room soon after to try to catch any others who might still be around.

"Right."

Draco rushed the two girls, first turning his wand to Granger as he placed his foot harshly on the younger girl's frame, keeping her to the floor. "Incarcerous!" Thick ropes appeared around Hermione- binding her tightly, keeping her arms and legs together as she tossed her body around on the floor. Draco laughed at the sight and held his left hand out, summoning her wand to him. He then turned to Ginny as he pocketed Granger's wand, his eyes shining under his hood with excitement.

"Your turn. Incarcerous!" Again, ropes were conjured out of thin air, binding the girl underneath his foot painfully as he took her wand as well. He smirked down at them both, his eyes lingering on the red-head before looking up and around him for Snape.

The fall had left Ginny disoriented and barely able to move as she felt a whole stash of bruises beginning to form. Her vision was in two, and when she finally regained some sight, she was not pleased with what she saw. Hermione bound tightly and flailing at the hands of a hooded figure.

The red head sat up quickly, more tears pouring down her cheeks and she began to search for the wand she had lost in her fall, but there was barely any time to think before she felt harsh cords tighten around her arms and legs, pulling her back down to the ground with a shriek. Blindly, she fought the ties, twisting and writhing under their grip, but to no avail. They would not loosen. Tears streamed faster down her cheeks, but she would not give up. She had to get loose. She had to take care of herself. Harry was gone now. He was gone.. He wasn't going to burst in and save the day like he always did. He was dead. She had to take care of herself. She had to.

The red head pulled harder at her wrists, making cuts and scratches in a ring, and sobbing. She had to take care of herself. She had to.

Hermione watched as Ginny was bound as well. Where had Snape gone? She looked around wildly, until the voice of the second set in. Her skin grew hot with anger, not terror. She looked up at the second, eyes defiant and wild.

"You pathetic, cowardly little brat!!" Her voice broke in mid-yell, and she looked back to Ginny. "It's Malfoy! And the other-" Her words were interrupted by none other than Severus Snape returning to the room. She tried to back away on the floor, but she could barely move with as tight as Draco had made the ropes.

"The rest have gone," Snape said to Draco as he approached the two sitting on the floor- well, lying really. "Well well, Miss Granger, Miss Weasley. One might think the two of you might have done better in Apparition class. Or in the very least, at lowering wards effectively." He grabbed each one by the hair in turn to check for injuries briefly before stepping back. "Then you might not have found yourselves in this situation."

He turned to Draco then, a sly smile creeping across his face. "It would appear we have prisoners, Draco. Should we keep them, or kill them?"

Draco eyed Granger while Severus checked them, wanting nothing more than to curse the hell out of her and be done with it. When Severus spoke, he turned his eyes to the older man with curiosity.

"Ah, we have a choice?" His eyes fell back on Granger, then to Ginny where they remained for quite some time before he answered. "Let's keep them, for a bit at least." He looked back at the other man as he pushed his hood back, revealing himself to the two girls proudly.

"One each, then?"

Ginny's eyes widened as the hood dropped back. Snape and- and Malfoy? Ginny could feel the terror rising in her chest, making her nauseous. This was too much. There was no escape and yet she still looked to the door. Where was Harry?

She could feel Malfoy's eyes on her, arrogant and proud- like a predator. Her brown ones turned away, willing herself not to look at the man. She remembered him all too well from school- the teasing and the duels. Malfoys had never gotten along with Weasleys and the boy was finally getting his revenge.

'One each, then?' She had almost shuddered.

Suddenly, the stakes were higher. This wasn't about her hair color or her last name anymore. This was about a man, who at this moment had complete control over the situation, and like hell she would let him win. Like hell.

"You bastard," she hissed, eyes meeting, "I'd rather choke on my own vomit."

Hermione looked from Malfoy to Snape, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. Ginny's voice snapped her attention, causing her fear to double when she heard what the girl had said.

"Ginny, stop it!" It was no time to be proud, not with Snape back in the room. Not with him in control of everything, in control of their very lives. She had started to shake, the ropes tightening slowly around her body as she continued to try backing away from the dark man that stood over her. It wasn't Draco she was afraid of. She could handle the snot, given the opportunity. It was the man she had no chance at all of ever besting that she was cowering underneath. Slowly, she turned her gaze from Snape to Malfoy.

"What do you mean by that...?”

Oh, this was too rich. "What's this? The know-it-all cannot decipher a simple statement?" With a flick of his wand (and an unspoken spell) he lifted her to a standing position, though her feet didn't quite touch the floor. "Allow me to clarify the situation for you. The both of you are now prisoners of war, OUR prisoners to be specific. As such, we may either kill you or keep you." He glanced over at Draco before continuing. "Likely you will be killed eventually, but for now perhaps some entertainment might be in order."

He grabbed Hermione by the hair and pulled her head back as he looked at her. "Oh yes, I believe there are things you have left to learn, Miss Granger; things about pain tolerance and the human body. I believe I would enjoy teaching that to you."

Draco laughed as Hermione asked him what he meant, letting Severus answer her. The way he was treating the mudblood excited him.

"I take it you'd like her, then. That's perfect, I was hoping to get this one anyways." He reached down and drug the red-headed girl by the collar of her clothes to her knees before him. He then moved his hand to her neck, his thumb rubbing roughly against her soft skin. He continued to smirk down at the girl in his grasp. "This'll be fun."

With another laugh, he looked back toward Snape. "Where to now? Should we report these two to Father first?"

Ginny felt her heart thumping in her ears as Snape lifted Hermione off the ground. The look on his face was repulsive and the things Ginny assumed he had in mind were repulsive as well. Hermione was a human being, not something to be won and used.

"Let her go!" Ginny heard herself shouting desperately, unable to dwell on what was in store for the both of them. She was ignored.

‘I take it you'd like her, then. That's perfect, I was hoping to get this one anyways.’

Her head twisted back to Draco, looking up at the smug man. Her heart felt like it had fallen into the pit of her stomach and though she hated it, two tears glided down her cheeks.

He pulled her into his grip before him and Ginny almost threw up. The wave of sickness she felt would not go away. His hand against her skin felt wrong and rough and she was sure she was going to be sick all over him. But she swallowed back the vomit as it rose in her throat.

‘Where to now? Should we report these two to Father first?’

Lucius Malfoy... the name shook in her brain and Ginny was filled with dread. She had come into contact with him many times before- and though they were few and far between, they were entirely unpleasant. She thought back to the Department of Mysteries and then, to her first year in Diagon Alley, and shivered. She did not want to meet that man again- certainly not like this, certainly not ever.

Hermione’s world had crumbled and dissolved right before her eyes. Less than an hour ago, she had been making Wolfsbane for Remus with Fred and George as a slow meeting took place in the next room. And Harry had been alive..

She tossed her head back and forth, attempting to break free of the dark man's grasp. It was of course no use.

'Oh yes, I believe there are things you have left to learn, Miss Granger; things about pain tolerance and the human body. I believe I would enjoy teaching that to you.'

If she hadn't been shaking before, she certainly was after his words sank in. With Mafloy distracted by Ginny, her ropes had loosened a bit. With great effort she called on the last bit of pride and strength she had and tried to kick at Snape. The toe of her shoe barely met with his knee. It was useless. A grunt of frustration left her throat as she brought her eyes down to his.

"You won't be 'teaching' me anything, you pathetic man." Though no telling how short-lived it would be, her pride and bravery had been restored.

He considered Draco's question. "We should report them, soon. When we have them secured, not before. We will send word then." As the last word left his lips Hermione's foot nearly contacted his leg in a vain attempt at kicking him.

"Oh yes, fight, I do so love a challenge," he hissed as he silenced her with a spell. "While I have every intention of hearing your voice plead with me, I don't want to hear it just yet. In time, you shall see just how pathetic this man is not."

Draco's attention was caught when Granger tried kicking Severus. He had been letting the ropes on the mudblood go a bit slack. He immediately jerked his wand toward her, tightening the ropes more than ever.

"Alright. The Manor, or did you have someplace else in mind?"

He could feel the girl in his grip begin to shake, and something wet fell to the top of his hand that was around her neck. He glanced down to see a tear, one on his skin and one still on her cheek. It was gorgeous.

All color had left Ginny’s cheeks and she felt cold under his grip. She prayed Snape would leave Hermione alone. That was something the red head would gag to think about.

‘Alright. The Manor, or did you have someplace else in mind?’

He was looking down at her again and even though she was frightened, and even though she was scared, Ginny felt the rush of hatred growing in her chest. He looked so smug, so regal standing above her and she couldn't take it. She wanted to stop crying. She wanted to show him she didn't care what he did to her or anyone else. She wanted to show him she was fine.

But she wasn't.

She was still crying and she was still shaking and all she wanted to do was scream and bite his fingers away, but she wasn't in the position to do that. So she did the next best thing; she spat right into his face.

"Go to hell," she said, trying to sound fierce or at least like someone to be dealt with, but her voice came out high pitched and frail, cracking from her crying. There was another surge of tears, but she fought them away. She was fine. He had to see she was fine.

Hermione tossed her head to the side, away from her captor's face. She couldn't look at him, not now. Her own tears began to well up again, and she wasn't as strong as Ginny at holding them back. Her lips mouthed a name, but no sound came out. As such, her sobs were hidden and so she let the tears fall freely. She had failed Harry, and Ginny, and Ron. She had failed everyone, including herself.

"No, I have another place in mind. If we bring them to the Manor, your father might wish to be involved." Snape wiped a tear from Hermione's face and looked at it glisten on his fingertip for a moment before shaking it off. "No, I do not feel like sharing, I am a selfish man after all. What you do with yours is, of course, your decision. I have the perfect place in my home for this one."

He grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him, his eyes matching his expression: cold and calculating. "You will be quite comfortable there, won't you?" he asked, knowing that she would deny it if only she could. "Yes, you will. I assure you of that."

He turned and faced Draco, who seemed rather pleased with his. "I suggest we leave before they return in force."

Draco slapped the defiant girl with the back of his hand, then wiped the spit from his face. Snape's voice broke his concentration on the red-head, for the time being.

"Right. Father will leave her to me if I tell him to, so I am taking her to the Manor."

Draco eyed Granger, a wicked smirk crossing his face as Snape spoke to her. "I will tell Father you have captured Granger. Oh, and have fun.. I know I will." He then turned to Ginny and began dragging her through the flat. Once outside, he pulled her up to him in a half standing, half leaning position with his left arm tightly around her rope-bound body. "We're going to have a lot of fun, you and me," he purred into her ear before closing his eyes and Disapparating them both to the Manor.

Hermione watched as Snape’s dark eyes were forced onto hers. Once he had finished speaking, she closed her eyes tight and swallowed. Everything had gone so terribly wrong. Had they thought to take the anti-apparition wards down so they could leave... But Hermione had been too busy worrying about the hexes Snape was sending their way, and protecting Ginny.

Hermione turned her head and watched helplessly as her friend was drug out of the room. She screamed silently for the girl, threatening Malfoy if he dared hurt her. Her threats were empty and unheard. Slowly, she looked back at Snape, then closed her eyes tight and tried one more time to kick him, wiggle out of the ropes binding her, anything.

Her despair was lovely, addictive even. "What was that, Miss Granger? Ahh yes, you cannot speak, can you?" He moved away from her as she struggled to kick him yet again. "You will settle, or I will hex you to stillness," he threatened as he took hold of her bindings. "You don't want to make it worse for yourself, do you?"

He pulled her closer and looked at her, the fear in her intoxicating. "I believe I can understand Dementors a bit more," he said softly as he watched her.

"Come now, we leave." He held her to him tightly as they Apparated away.


	2. Two

Snape apparated them to his house and brought her before a bookcase which, with a tap of his wand, moved to reveal a hallway to parts unknown- for now. Without a word, he brought her through it and to a duel staircase; one led upstairs, the other to the basement of the house. Whether it was the same basement that one would see if they descended by normal measures would never be known by any others.

He led her through yet another door which opened to a spacious room, plain stone lining the walls. Nothing unusual in here at all, really; an enchanted window provided light though the room otherwise had no windows and only the one door. There was one bed in the room; nothing fancy but not horridly filthy either. He dropped her on it and closed the door before facing her again.

"I'm sure you have questions for me; I'll release you and allow you to ask until I tire of it."

With a flick of his wand, her restraints vanished- the silencing charm lifted as well, and he stood with his arms crossed, smiling in a rather unfriendly way.

Hermione gasped as the ropes around her vanished, freeing her arms and legs. The removal of the pressure stung, but ultimately felt better. Her wrists, ankles and upper arms ached terribly. As soon as she could move again, she began backing up on the bed until she almost fell off the side. She then half tumbled off the bed to the wall, casting about the room quickly as she looked for any means to fight back or escape. She completely ignored what he was saying to her.

Questions? No, she had no questions for him. He had betrayed them all, and it was quite clear what side he was definitely on now.

He watched as she searched for an exit like a cornered animal. "The only escape is behind me- well, through me. Somehow, I don't think you can get to it." He didn't move, didn't lose the dark smile.

"It must be the end of the world; the indomitable Miss Granger has lost her desire to ask questions. Or maybe she has none?" he said smoothly. "Perhaps she has questions but fears asking them. What a wondrous day indeed."

She whipped her head around to glare at him, fear mixed with anger and confusion flashed across her face. Her hands balled into tight fists as she stared right back at him, her chest rising in deep, heavy breaths. "Oh, shut up. I don't have anything to ask you, you filthy excuse for a man."

Her words fell off her lips quick and venomously as she continued to stare at him. In a last ditch effort, she threw open her hand and called to her wand, only to be met with disappointment. No, Snape didn't have her wand.. Malfoy did, and he was gone, as was Ginny.

“Oh no," she whispered to herself as she turned away from him, trying to think of anything else she could do.

He laughed, an honest to Merlin laugh; probably the first and last time she would hear it. "That could not have worked out better had it been planned!" he told her as he stopped laughing.

"Filthy excuse for a man, you say?" He stepped forward slowly, giving her the illusion of an unguarded door, though it was spelled to his touch. "You will come to know exactly what sort of man I am, and I dare say that 'filthy excuse' will not be the words you use." He stood before her, his eyes trained on hers as a predator watches cornered prey for the almost inevitable fight.

"In time you will beg me by my name for release," he hissed. "As to what sort, I shall leave that to your imagination."

She could not believe her ears. He was being so completely perverted and vile. Her chance flashed quickly, fleetingly before her and she took it, making a mad dash for the door, running past the bed just out of his immediate reach. It didn't matter if she knew better, the point was to try, or she'd never forgive herself.

He watched her run to the door, amused and fully expecting her reaction. "You will tire of it before the door gives," he explained as he watched her. He grew rather weary of it relatively quickly and he walked to the door to grab her by the hair and pull her from it. He held her against him as he put his wand to her throat.

"Should we start now? Should I let you consider your situation?" He brought his wand to her cheek and drew it slowly across her skin, keeping it a good distance from her mouth. "Perhaps I should be a good host and let you eat," he whispered, his wand trailing across her jaw to her throat as he watched it.

"Perhaps the ultimate torture for you is to remain totally alone, locked in this room and never having company, books, even the appearance of an elf to occupy your mind," he said softly as he brought his eyes back to hers. "But I'm certain you know it will not be as easy as that. After the challenge you gave me, my honor is at stake isn't it?"

Hermione growled deep in her throat as she was pulled from the door roughly, coming to land against the other's chest. Her situation was clear, there was no considering left. And if her friends found out what happened, they would surely come looking for her. But...

With a grunt, she jerked herself out of his grasp for a moment. "Do your worst." It was as if she was daring herself as well as him, and it took all her moral strength to form the words.

"As though I needed your permission," he growled as she pulled herself free. "I was planning that very thing, but not just yet." He reached for her again and shoved her in the direction of the bed.

"Incarcerous," he said softly, but only one wrist was fasted to the bed with enough tether to allow her to move around it. She could lean over the bed, but that was as close to standing as the short tether allowed. He watched her then, carefully. "Where to begin?" he wondered aloud.

She let out another grunt, this time out of pain as a rope was around her wrist once more though this time that's all that was bound. She grabbed at it and tried tugging at it with all her strength, which only led to the rough binds rubbing a layer of skin off of her wrist. With a frustrated sigh, she stopped her pointless struggling and turned to look back at Snape.

"I don't know, you tell me." It was still beyond her how she managed to speak so defiantly to him. All she could think about was her friends, and Ginny.

He almost snorted. Almost. Instead, he remembered the fact that he needed to send word to Lucius regarding her and his plans for her. He also needed to know Lucius' plan, not to mention getting the girls wand from Draco.

Without a word to her, he walked to the door and exited, leaving her to her own imagination. He would return as soon as he had communicated with Lucius.

Hermione held her breath, waiting for Snape to return. After a bit, she let out the breath and fell back against the headboard of the bed, her wrist held up slightly by the rope bound to the bed post. A very shaky sigh fell from her lips as she closed her eyes and tried to calm down. The fact that the bed was highly uncomfortable did not help.

"Damn it all," she cursed to herself. She gave one last tug on the rope before giving up completely and going a bit limp. It was so silent that she could hear her heartbeat in her ears. At one point, she found herself wondering when Snape would return and end it.

He stood outside the door, his errands complete. The girl would live for a time, something he had planned already. He stood there, listening and wondering what thoughts must be running through her mind. He considered leaving her for a bit longer, letting her wonder, but he just knew she was rationalizing it in her mind, trying to figure things out. He found himself opening the door and stepping in, watching her for a few moments before approaching her. He released her then and waited.

She instantly took her wrist into her hand, holding it against her stomach as the throbbing pain ran through her arm for a bit longer. Her eyes never left his, though she wanted more than anything to be able to give in to her fear and look away.

"Well?"

He stood and watched for a moment. Only one. The next he had her in his grip as he drug her from the bed and pushed her against the wall, looking down upon her.

"I hope you aren't given to romantic flights of fancy and think you can talk your way through this," he snarled. "How this works will depend greatly upon you and your actions."

He drew her hands level with her head and pressed against her using his leg for leverage and keeping his hips at an angle to keep himself from the pain of kicking.

"How sensible are you, Granger? How badly do you want to be hurt?" he asked as he gave her a shove. "I would have you know, however, that you are not to die. Don't get confident, however; living has such a broad definition. Keep that in mind."

Her stomach leapt into her throat as he pressed against her, pushing her into the cold wall roughly. She didn't know if she needed to throw up or scream. Instead, she jerked her face away from his and gritted her teeth. So, he was smart enough to figure what she had decided. He wouldn't let her win, even by dying. With a jolt of determination, she turned her head and bit the fleshy area where his neck and shoulder met. She felt the snap of skin break underneath her teeth before her short-lived revenge was brought to an end.

He threw her across the bed as he bellowed, his hand going to his neck and coming away bloody. "You filthy...” He drew his wand and called, "Constrictum!" to bind her to the wall, her back to him.

"I would have been reasonable," he snarled viciously as he pressed his neck again, the blood still flowing freely on his collar. "That time is over. Lacer!" The back of her shirt tore open, leaving the flesh bared before him.

"You could have had this," he said hatefully as he drew his bloody hand softly across her back. "Instead, you have this, and rightly deserve it. Ustulo." The tip of his wand glowed red, and he dragged it across her back slowly as it burned a red welt across her pale skin.

"Such a shame, but you will learn obedience, girl," he growled.

She barely had time to register his words or her situation when she felt the material of her shirt rip open, exposing her bare skin to the cold air in the room. In the midst of it all, she felt embarrassed to have such a large amount of skin presented to him. She growled against the wall, attempting to turn her face and look at him when the tip of his wand touched her, sending her into a blind scream of pain. But she would not beg him, ever she thought. Hermione was clenching her teeth so hard she feared one of two might break, so she opened her mouth and let the cry of pain fill the room. But, she had gotten him, even if just a bit.

He stepped back to view his handiwork; three long, furiously red welts crossed her back. "Does your throat hurt as much as your back?" he asked as he dragged a fingernail down each mark. "I'm certain you would bite again, however; I should remove your teeth." He grabbed her hair and pulled her head far back so he could look at her. "What do you think, chit? Shall I pull your teeth?" he asked, snapping his teeth in emphasis. "I don't believe I shall; I rather like the way you grind them together before you scream," he said softly into her ear, "which is a delicious sound, I admit." He licked the outer edge of her ear before releasing her roughly and stepping back.

Hermione almost fell to her knees, but caught herself on the bed just in time. It was the worse physical pain she had ever been through. Regardless, she tried to wrap the remains of her shirt around herself, sharp intakes of breath rushed over her chapped lips as the material rubbed against the incredibly painful welts. But no, her throat did not hurt as much as her back. She looked up at him through strands of wavy hair, her eyes dark and fearful. A woman truly on the edge.

"Don't... lick me. Ever."

He slowly crouched, his eyes even with hers. "And who is going to stop me, girl; Potter? Your friends who left you behind?" He stood, looking down at her. "I will do what I want, when I want, and there is nothing you can do about it. You belong to me now. I suggest you get used to the idea.”

He crossed the room away from her and took off his overcoat, transfiguring it into a chair as he sat, facing her. The blood on his neck had created a stain on his shirt, which he ignored.

"So what would you like to experience next, girl? Go ahead, tell me. Better yet, try to show me something so I may become creative."

She stood, clutching the remains of her shirt to her as she turned and faced him, though she was a bit shaky. With a glare that could shoot daggers, she took a step forward before addressing him again.

"I belong to no-one, and nothing you can do could change that." Hermione took a deep breath in through her nose before finishing her miniature speech. "And I am not going to show you anything.”

"Is that so? I suppose you are free to walk out that door then?" he said as he motioned lazily toward the warded door. "If you are not, then you are kept, which means that you belong to someone. That someone, in this case, would be me."

He gave her a few moments to mull it over as he rolled his wand in his fingertips. "As for what you will or will not show me, do you not realize that I can enforce my will? Amoveo Vestis." The shreds of her outer clothing vanished, leaving her in her underclothes. His grin was evil, pure and simple.

"Thin, I think, but lovely. Who knew what you were hiding, girl." He stood from the chair and transfigured it back to the coat, but left it on the ground. "Don't worry, chit. I have no intention of desecrating you today. Probably not tomorrow either, but I will not promise forever," he told her, his voice icy.

Hermione backed away, now inching her way around the bed she had been determined to steer clear of in that room. Her arms were crossed in front of her, a sad attempt at hiding her body from his ravaging eyes. "D-don't look!"

Her face burned red with embarrassment as he looked her up and down. She hadn't meant to plead, but she couldn't help it. None had seen her like this, save her mirror in her bathroom. She found a corner where the bed met with the wall, and she curled into a ball tightly in the corner.

He picked up the coat and walked to within a short distance of her and held it up before her. "I could have removed it all, remember that. You will learn that you are dressed, undressed, fed, cold, all on my whim. Your very survival depends on me now."

He dropped the coat before her and walked away, leaning against the wall. "I will look at whatever I wish. Remember that." He swirled his wand in the air as though he was going to cast, but did nothing.

Regrettably, she reached out and pulled the coat around her. The material was rough against her skin, and it smelled like... like him. Her nose wrinkled at the smell, but it was far better than nothing. She remained in her corner though, refusing to move or say another word... for now.

His lips curled as he watched her don the jacket. A small step, a minor gesture of submission that she may not have even realized she had done; but he knew. He also had to admit that he liked the way she looked in that coat; too long for her, but still...

"Better," he said simply. "You can be taught after all."

Hermione cut her eyes up to his, her face still screwed in anger and humiliation. "Go... go fuck yourself, why don't you." It was the first time she had ever used such a word. It sounded nasty, and fit the situation perfectly she though.

"Sustuli." She was raised before him and he grabbed her by the hair again, bending her over away from him. "I see no reason to do that when you are right here," he answered, pushing against her so she would understand. "But I don't desire that right now." With a flick he dropped her on the bed and walked to the door. "I shall return momentarily."

With that, he exited the room. In the hall he instructed a house elf (yes, he had one) to provide her with food and water, no more. Of all the things he could think of to do to her, starve wasn't one of them. Having done that, he set additional instructions for his own dinner; he would visit her again afterward. For now, this was more fun than reading.

She was shocked beyond words at his actions. All she could do was stare, her mouth hung in a half-open position before being thrown onto the bed. After a moment, a small house elf appeared in the room with a plate of food and a glass of room-temperature water. "I don't believe him...”

She took the tray from the elf and watched it leave before sighing and letting herself cry freely until his return. The tray of food and water sat at the end of the bed, by her feet.

Upon his return he saw the food still setting on the end of the bed, untouched. He knew if he tried to force her to eat, she would spit it at him or worse. "I'll not let you starve, girl. Keep that in mind as you play your game; sooner or later you will eat."

  
With a huff, she kicked the tray of food, sending it flying toward the man. Some bits of food landed on his shoes, the glass of water emptying across his hips and the tray itself bouncing off his leg. She had finally managed to hit his legs. She smiled defiantly up at him.  
  
  
The edge of the tray caught his leg as he leapt backward, but not fast enough to evade everything. He looked at her, livid.  
  
"Do you think this is a game?" he hissed, baring his teeth. "Did you not learn before?" He rushed her and pulled her up to him again, slamming her against the wall. "I'll not tolerate this from you, insolent witch!"  
  
He threw her on the bed on her stomach this time, climbing over her and sitting on her legs as he leaned forward and whispered "Ustulo" again. As the wand glowed one more time he leaned forward and placed it within inches of her face.  
  
"Do you wish this again, or shall I introduce you to something new already?”

  
"I believe I have had enough of that petty attempt at torture, thanks." Her words were muffled as her face was smashed against the covers of the bed. She turned her face sideways, letting out a strained breath. "Get off of me.”  
  
  
"Petty attempt..." With that he returned the favor of the bite until he tasted her blood, sure it ran as his had. He climbed off her then and pointed his wand to her. He licked her blood from his lips, watching her reaction. "Very well. The old standby works every time... Crucio!"  
  
He held it on her for almost two minutes but released her before her mental faculties could be affected. "Perhaps you prefer that petty attempt?"  
  
  
Hermione's eyes flung open as the curse was lifted, her body still aching and burning as it slowly ran its course through her system. She had started to shake again, and her knees had been pulled up to her chin as she had writhed and tossed about on the bed. The pain of the bite he had given her was truly nothing compared to this; to that horrible, uncontrollable pain. Catching her breath, she moved to sit on her hands and knees on the bed, wiping some warm liquid from the corner of her mouth as she looked back up at Snape.  
  
"Rather uncreative, aren't you-" The last word was cut off as she coughed, a bit more blood falling from the corner of her mouth and onto the bedsheets below her. She smirked at herself; she had managed to 'dirty' his things with her 'dirty blood'. She looked up at him with the smirk, and saw he had her blood on his fingers now, and his lips.  
  
  
"Rather effective, isn't it?" he countered, watching her cough and shake in reaction to the curse. "I certainly wouldn't want to wear you out in one day, use everything too soon. What sort of host would I be to bore you so quickly?"  
  
He looked at his hand and noticed the blood on his fingertips. He caught her eyes as he licked it from his hand slowly. "You see, it does not bother me, chit." He leaned forward slightly and smiled wryly. "I'm not a pureblood either. Your blood doesn't matter to me."  
  
  
Her stomach turned sourly as she watched him lick up her blood from his fingers. The throbbing dull pain of the bite he had left caught her attention, causing her to cast her hand up to her neck. It would leave a mark, the bastard. She spat any remaining blood in her mouth onto the bed before sitting back on her knees with a soft wince. She kept his coat, however, tightly wrapped around her almost naked body.  
  
"That’s right, you're just a half-blood like Harry was, like Tom Riddle. You're just lucky to be here at all."  
  
  
He snorted. "Hardly luck. Knowledge is power, wouldn't you agree?" He became quite serious then, "but I am no muggleborn." Without realizing it he touched the place where she had bit him as she reached for hers; he hadn't done anything with it, and he probably wouldn't until later. Truly, it didn't hurt.  
  
"I do not feel the need to explain it to you, however." He picked up the tray and a large piece of the broken glass, favoring the glass shard and dropping the tray. "Things of value transcend bloodline, I think."  
  
  
"Well, it's good to know you have some sense of reason in you still." She watched as he picked up a shard of glass from the floor. Her expression screwed into a horrible look of disgust. "Surely you're not thinking of using that... How sad."  
  
  
He raised an eyebrow as he looked to her from the glass shard. "No, I am a wizard after all. I was merely bored with your prattle and sad attempts to bait me. Evanesco." The mess from her dinner disappeared, including the shard of glass he had been examining.  
  
"I wonder if there isn't something you want me to do, Granger. It would almost seem as though there is." He walked to the foot of the bed and crossed his arms, wand still in his hand and ready.  
  
"It almost seems as though you like it," he whispered.  
  
  
Hermione raised her head somewhat, meeting with his eyes again. His voice flowed over her like a dark and agitating cloak. Impending doom, though it was too late for that.  
  
"What I want is for you to let me go. And believe me, sir; that is ALL I will ever want from you."  
  
  
"Is that so?" He moved forward quickly and captured her wrists as he pushed her back against the bed, trapping her legs awkwardly beneath her. "You know you are not leaving, what I said holds. You will beg for release before I am done with you."  
  
  
A painful grunt left her throat as she was shoved back roughly, bending her knees and legs awkwardly underneath her.  
  
"I will beg you for nothing." She jerked her legs out from underneath her, and a kick finally landed on Snape's left shin. She then brought up her right leg, to propel him off of her.  
  
  
He felt her bringing up her leg to push him away, and he lept away from her before she could land another kick. His left leg- already sore from being hit with the tray, was now worse off from her kick. He was highly displeased. Spitting angry, even.  
  
"Levicorpus,” he called again, this time hanging her by her ankles in the air. "That's twice you pulled that trick, the shame is on me. Now, however, it will be moved to you.”  
  
He remained out of her reach, but barely as he walked around her. "Let’s see, where shall we begin?" He reached up and smoothed a hand over her calves, before tracing a shallow cut down each with his wand. "Lovely," he commented as he watched her reaction to the slow cuts.  
  
"Are you prepared to settle down just yet? I will carve my name into your back and mark you as mine if you do not."

His words came as a sadistic blur to her as the coat she had held tightly around her fell to the floor. The cold air of the room hit her body harshly, causing her body to react to the cold, goosebumps and all. The slow cuts down her calves hurt but were nothing compared to the Crucatius she had felt earlier. Hermione simply bit her bottom lip and moaned against her closed mouth in pain.

He smiled as he heard her, saw the coat fall and her body's own reaction to the cold.

"Allow me to enlighten you. Pain need not be severe to be torture. It can be constant," he said as he began a charm that would spell his name on the skin of her back when he released the spell. "Ever present. It can be humiliation." He drew his finger over the delicate fabric of her panties, which was just above the level of his eyes. "It is a delicate art, you understand."

He knelt, raising her face to the level of his. He held her face as he released the spell and the words were cut, not burned, into her back. He nearly closed his eyes, but he knew better. He released her face as he walked behind her, the blood slowly running from the letters of his name (upside down, granted).

"Mine," he whispered, running his tongue over each of the letters, tasting her.

"Just wait," he started, rubbing his cheek over them as well, nuzzling her injured back. "You will be changed, and you may even enjoy it."

Hermione couldn't hold in the low growl of pain that slowly grew into a yell before it was all said and done. She opened her eyes, tears stinging her vision as she looked straight up into his coal-black eyes. Then, she couldn't help the series of gasps and sharp intakes of air as his tongue traced each of the bleeding letters on her back.

'Mine.' Her skin was crawling with fear, anger, and... something else. She was not his, and never would be... right?

'You will be changed, and you may even enjoy it.'

Hermione had no response for him, her mind was starting to fade. Her eyes fluttered between hanging on to consciousness and simply letting herself pass out.

She was becoming limp in his very grasp, and he lowered her onto the bed on her stomach so he could get a good look at her back. Beautiful. He turned and picked up the jacket and threw it across her, not caring whether she was awake or not.

"Tomorrow, the fun begins. I suggest you sleep well, Granger."

On the way out of the room he instructed the house elf to tend to her and left her there to sleep.


	3. Three

Hermione woke up about four hours later, her whole body aching. She propped herself up, and the coat that had been laying over her back slid off, scraping across the cuts on her skin. She hissed at the pain and reached around, jerking the coat away from her back. The cold air stung as it hit the cuts, causing another wave of pain to surge through her. She sat there on her hands and knees in the bed, waiting for the pain to die down before moving again.

The room was completely silent, except for a house elf standing in the corner watching her nervously. Hermione perked her eyes up to the creature, and hurriedly stood from the bed before addressing him.

"Could you-" But he had vanished before she could get any more than that out. She then dashed to the door, and tried to throw it open as hard as she could. It didn't so much as creak under the light strain. "Damn it!" She turned back toward the bed. _I'll be damned..._ instead, she grabbed up the coat, tenderly wrapping it around herself, then went to the furthest corner from the door and crouched with her knees to her chest. He would come back, eventually.

"Feed her." The elf vanished from his sight at the command, and he placed his quill on the desk before leaning back. She refused to eat before, he couldn't let her try to starve herself; he had potions to cure that if need be. He drew his finger across his thin lips as he considered the situation. She was an obstinate girl, she would fight hard against him. Not that he was enamored of the idea of keeping her; on the contrary, it was another thing to deal with. Yet she fought so hard against him, he had found himself rather enjoying it. Such spirit; breaking her would indeed be a pleasure. He could use potions or spells to do it; and he might eventually, but not now. For now he would rather do it 'the old fashioned way,' as it were. He glanced at the bookcase, deciding to leave her for a few hours alone. The girl was never alone at school, and of all things this might be worse for her. Yes, in time she would look forward to his company to break the silence, and if not, well... The silence would still be broken.

He leaned forward again and picked up his quill, settling on writing his research instead (he still did such things after all). He would visit her in several hours.

Hermione jumped when the elf returned. She sprang to her feet and rushed to the little creature, who was standing in the middle of the room with a tray of food, shaking.

"Can you let me out?"

The house elf screwed up his face and shook his head, holding the tray of food up for her to take. She bent down to his level, looking the creature directly in the eyes. "Please, you have to let me out."

"M-master is not letting m-me help you escape, Master is o-only letting me t-tend to you."

She sighed and took the tray of food, after which the elf quickly vanished. After a few moments of thought, she took the piece of bread before throwing the tray and the remaining food against the door. Quietly, she returned to her corner and ate the single piece of bread as she waited.

By the afternoon he had managed to clear a great deal of work from his desk. It was at that point that he decided to check on his 'guest', ensure she hadn't done something foolish to harm herself.

He moved the bookcase and passed through the familiar hidden hallway that led to various locations throughout the house, following the one that led to the room she was currently residing in. He slammed the door open and took in the state of the room, including the tray so violently discarded against the wall, food included. He shot her a disparaging look before vanishing the mess and closing the door.

"How shall we play today?" he asked as he walked to one side of the room, his eyes trained on her. "Either you can tell me where they are, or I can give them a sign of you that they could not resist. I will give you one opportunity only."

She continued to sit in the corner with her knees to her chest, completely ignoring him and his attitude. This was the same man that had taught her potions for five years. The same man that had forced her to build her self-confidence through continued criticism and contempt. And now, she was nothing more to him than a prisoner.

After thinking her options over, she turned to him and spoke. "I want clothes." Though she had the coat around her and her under-garments, she had nothing else which made her feel ten times more vulnerable.

He slowly tilted his head as he looked at her. "I'm quite sure you do." He walked over to her then and took her by the hair, pulling a few strands loose and pocketing them before taking her chin in his hand and forcing her to face him.

"Tell me, are you a virgin? I would think so." He released her as he stepped back, walking toward the door. "Such a thing is of great value, think carefully before you answer that. I shall know a false answer, and it will not go well for you if you lie."

"I'm not telling you anything." Hermione returned to her position in the corner, following the dark figure with her eyes as he walked through the room. She was indeed a virgin, but she'd be damned if she told him that. But he would find out, somehow. And if he did, that would just be another use she could provide him with. She found herself wishing she had let Ron continue that one night a few years back, but instead she had pushed him away and gave him a good talking to before storming out of his room.

He pursed his lips and looked at her before binding her to the bed and lifting her onto it.

"Keep your silence." A few waves of his wand and he watched and waited. After a few moments he smirked, bringing his eyes to hers. "A virgin." He placed his hand on her belly and held it there, almost clinically as a doctor would. "Well well, it would appear that you have a protection against violation, girl. You are far more valuable in this state than any enjoyment one might be able to take from the use of your body." He squeezed her lightly before releasing her. "You are safe from that, at least. But for now, I have a potion to brew." He tapped his pocket, "I thank you for the generous donation of your hair; it shall go to good use." And with that he released her and left the room. Time to start brewing, Polyjuice takes a month, after all...

Hermione turned over on the bed and screamed into the single pillow, throwing a miniature fit for a good two minutes. The stinging of the cuts on her back brought her back to reality, and she calmed her sobbing fits down enough to breath normally. There simply had to be a way out of this. She was alone, for no telling how long, with nothing but a coat, her underwear and bra, and a bed. She was biting her bottom lip when it occurred to her that metal springs were in old beds. She sat up and bounced her rear twice, only to hear, yes... creaky bed springs. She jumped off the bed and knelt down beside it, looking at the box spring first.

"Okay." She took the coat and laid it down on the floor under the bed, then carefully scooted underneath it, holding her breath as the material of the coat scraped against the cuts again. Once fully underneath the bed, Hermione began looking for a tear or hole. It wasn't long before she found one. After three good tugs, the hole tore enough to allow her arm to reach inside. She stopped for a moment to listen, for either Snape or an elf, but neither came. She set back to work, making up the plan as she went.

Before long, she had fashioned a body-sized lump of padding from the mattress underneath the bed sheets, making it look like she was in bed curled up. She then fit a broken bed spring to the palm of her hand, and waited silently by the door. Once anyone opened it, she would be ready.

The potion was brewing, and her hair was secured in a glass vial awaiting the completion of the potion. Really, it couldn't be just this simple; but so far it had been. Too easy, in fact. But she was afraid, which was perfect. It would appear she had a few more uses, however. He considered leaving her there for a bit, let her rot in silence. After today he probably would; let the elf tend to her until he absolutely had to deal with her. But not today. He took the usual path to the door, deciding that there were a few answers he did want to get from her, at least one or two. He opened the door and hesitated, seeing what appeared to be her sleeping form on the bed. He frowned as he slammed the door behind him to wake her.

Hermione flung herself toward him as soon as he was inside the room. Her hand met with the side of his face, the broken spring in her palm cutting his cheek as she slapped him. In the same movement, she reached for the doorknob with the other hand, but he had already slammed it shut. Everything happened in a matter of seconds. Her hand then grabbed the coat she had kept around her shoulders and pulled it off, attempting to cover Snape's head until she could get to a better advantage point. She had dropped the spring, her right hand now fumbling through his robes for his wand. If only he hadn't slammed the door shut...

He spun as he felt her slap, the metal object which cut into his cheek. He turned to face her as he reached out and was rewarded with his coat shoved into his face. He reached up to pull it away as he grabbed for her, feeling her hands digging through his robes. He was livid; he found a handful of her hair and shoved her against the wall, shoving himself against her with his shoulder hoping to make her lose her grip on at least the coat.

"You think you can do this?" he spit as he fought to grasp her wrists.

She pulled the coat around his head, making it tighter around his face as she was thrown against the wall. She grunted in pain and frustration, as the cuts on her bare back were pressed harshly against the stone wall, her shoulder blades grinding horribly against it under his weight. Her right hand worked quickly, but he kept blocking her over and over. She growled and tried tossing her own weight back at him as her hand reached for the last pocket she hadn't gotten to yet. In the struggle to find his wand, she had let her hold on the coat around his head go slack.

He shook his head and felt the coat loosen; he reached up and pulled it from his face. He roared as he felt her reach into his pocket- the very one that held his wand. "Oh no you don't," he snarled as he reached for her wrists, keeping close enough to not allow her to draw it from his pocket before he could grip it, keep her from it. He brought one hand to her throat and squeezed. "Let it go," he threatened.

But Hermione didn't let go. Her finger-tips grazed the polished wood, fueling her determination further. Again she pushed her weight against him, this time bringing her knee up to his crotch, which gave her just the right amount of time and the perfect position to push her hand further and grasp his wand. She was suddenly aware that she couldn't breathe, and that the room was starting to go dim.

"Relashio!" was all she managed to choke out while her hand was still around his wand. The fiery sparks set off inside his pocket, setting the material on fire slightly. She let go and fell to the ground, now attempting to claw at the hand around her neck as her vision continued to dim and her mind grew fuzzy.

A brilliant flash was all he saw when her knee made contact, and he fought to keep his knees from buckling. But when she cast a spell with his own wand, the sparks burning through his clothes and leaving small flames in their wake, he cried out as he shoved against her again. He felt her collapse and released her, both to pat down his pocket and to crumple against the wall for support, his breaths coming in gasps. He felt his wand in his pocket still and withdrew it, pointing it directly at her.

"I've had enough of this with you," he snarled. With a broad, sweeping gesture he threw her to the other side of the room as he turned his back to the wall, slowly straightening. "I tire of kindness."

Hermione lay in a heap against the wall, gasping for breath. She felt several streams of warm liquid start to slowly drip down her back, the cuts- his name, must have reopened during the fight. She hit her fist on the floor and screamed furiously, just once. After a few heaving breaths, she looked up at him and yelled across the room.

"You are insane!!”

The cut on his cheek had begun to sting, now that he was able to pay attention to it. He brought his hand up to it and looked at the blood on his fingertips. Again. That made it twice; he needed to be far more careful. He was underestimating her now, and he could not afford that. It was not like him at all, in fact. He looked up when she screamed.

"I'm insane?" he replied just as passionately. "Evanesco!" he shouted and the bed vanished. "You just ensured yourself of a most uncomfortable arrangement." He snapped his fingers and the same shivering elf appeared. "Mattress and a blanket. One without springs," he told the elf. "She'll do without." The elf looked briefly at his cheek and disappeared. He looked at the jacket on the floor briefly before kicking it over toward her.

"The line between sanity and insanity is very thin, girl. I think you are going to find that the point at which you step over the line is not visible until you are well past it."

Slowly, a laugh began to build up in her throat. She cast her eyes over his bloody cheek, then to his crotch which she knew her knee had contacted with. Twice he had drawn her blood, and twice she had drawn his. She laughed again after the house elf disappeared.

"That's it? Your 'end of kindness'? To take away the bed, and leave me with a mattress and blanket?" Hermione laughed one last time before coughing and gathering the coat about her body. "You underestimated me, but I did not underestimate you. I rather think I overestimated you. Sir.”

"You think so?" he sneered. "I tire of this game." He raised his wand quickly and pointed it toward her. "Avada Kedav..." He didn't finish the statement and the end of the wand lost its greenish glow.

"Your life is mine to take, whether you feel you have overestimated me or not is of no importance to me. What you will learn, however, is another story," he told her in no uncertain terms.

He pointed at the ceiling then and conjured manacles which dropped from chains in the ceiling. "This will be your bed, in fact." He nodded in the direction of the newly placed mattress and blanket. "You may view it, not use it." He pointed toward her, refusing to lift her specifically for it and risk her drawing blood again. "Stupefy."

Hermione had no time to react, respond, or think before being stunned. It had been her best attempt at escape, at fighting back. And he had won. He was leaving her with next to no options, and her only other choice would eventually be to bend to his will in order to protect not only herself but her friends as well. She lay unconscious until he moved her.

He raised her to the point that he could clasp the shackles around her wrists, then stepped back to look at his work. While she was unmoving, he walked behind her, lifting the coat to admire his previous work. The cuts were filthy, the skin around them an angry red. He exhaled as he called for his elf and commanded it to clean her. Releasing each arm for a moment, he removed the now filthy jacket, tossing it aside to be disposed of. When the elf was finished cleaning her he demanded that it leave and take the coat with him.

He healed the cuts, ensuring they left a light scar behind. It was stirring, to say the least; his name branded into her flesh. He whispered, "Ennervate," as he ran his hand across the scars, feeling the texture under his fingertips as he waited for her to realize her situation.

The dim light from the room was shining through her eye-lids. Hermione took in a sharp breath, her legs jerking slightly once her consciousness began returning to her. She felt a full body shiver coming on; the coat had been removed. Slowly, she became aware of fingers gently tracing things on her back. It should have hurt- stung, but it didn't. Instead, it was rather relaxing. After a good half minute she remembered what had happened, and that the last thing she saw was the tip of Snape's wand glowing green. Her eyes shot open, and she wildly cast around the room though her vision was a bit blurred. She then gasped as she tried to jerk her hands down only to feel cold metal restraining them above her head. Her body instantly twisted, trying to free itself as well as shy from the gentle touches that continued across her back. It was obviously no use; she was restrained too tightly and at just the right height to where her toes barely grazed the ground, allowing her no means to gain momentum or leverage. Hermione let out a raspy, desperate grunt as she gave in and let her body relax. Slowly, she turned her head to look over her shoulder to where the gentle touches had come from.

"She awakens," he said as he watched her try to look over her shoulder. He held his hand still on her back, his wand in his other hand. "If you will realize your situation, things would go far easier for you."

He dropped his hand as he moved before her, watching her intently. "If you are quite through, I would remind you that you are in my home, my care. If I choose to let you starve, freeze, or die of some other cause, I shall. If I wish to poison you, I will. If I wish you crippled or dead, it shall be so."

He reached up and caressed her throat with his hand. "Do I make myself clear, girl?" He watched her steadily, prepared for another attempt.

Hermione swallowed hard; her throat hurt badly. She blinked twice, the man's face coming into view finally. He hadn't killed her, or hurt her any more. In fact, it seemed that he had healed the cuts on her back, as they no longer stung nor hurt at all. Yet there on his face was the cut she had left him with, still bloody.

Slowly, she took a deep breath and looked away from his face. At least for the time being, she had lost. It was time to try bending to his will, and see how far it got her. She closed her eyes and nodded her head slowly.

He released her throat and watched her, not convinced of her submission. Still, it was a start; truly it hadn't taken much, which was why he wasn't convinced. Most took far more pain and torment than this, but she was a smart girl.

"It is a good thing, that you should use your intelligence to see your way through this." Her eyes left his and he nearly smiled, the sting on his cheek reminding him of the cut she had placed there. He drew his fingers across it and felt the drying blood on his face.

"Ahh yes, I believe I still owe you for this, do I not?" He grabbed her face and placed his wand on her cheek, "Shall I repay you in kind?"

She took in a shaky breath, her eyes still closed refusing to look at him. It was harder than being tortured, having to submit to someone. But she managed to forget her pride and find her tongue to speak.

"Equivalent exchange," Hermione choked out softly before opening her eyes to stare into his.

"Indeed." He drew the wand rapidly across her cheek, giving her a shallow cut similar to his. As the tiny drops of blood began to bead up, he nearly smiled. "One good turn deserves another, don't you think?"

He placed his hand over his chest, where the spell she had cast had given him a burn from the heat where the tip of the wand had been so close. "I suppose I should also burn you in return, but I believe I will wait on that particular revenge."

He put the wand to her side as he leaned close to her ear to whisper, "Your friends have not even attempted to come to your aid, to find you... I must admit that it surprises even me."

Hermione wanted more than anything to snap a good response at him. 'Of course they haven't, they're too smart for your stupid little games.' But she bit her tongue and turned her head again, her cheek now stinging dully from the cut he had just given her. Some messy strands of hair had already fallen across her face, sticking to the blood.

"Good." Her tone was not angry or snappy, more tired and honestly relieved that her friends had stayed away. As long as her imprisonment brought them no harm, she had decided, then he could kill her without regret on her part. She sighed and blinked back a tear or two.

"Polyjuice. They will come." He nodded and brushed her hair lightly with his hand, "You didn't think I took those hairs for purely sentimental reasons, did you?" He walked in a circle around her then, softly dragging his nails across her waist as he did. "Whether they come for you or not is not important. What is important is you return to them. Or at least what they believe is you."

He stood before her again, his hand still on her waist as he leaned to her ear to whisper to her. "You may be bright, but they certainly are not, are they?"

She sighed once he had finished his little speech. It was a tired, beaten sort of sigh. Her friends would know better, surely they would. She licked her chapped lips, her face still turned away from his. The constant touching was grinding on her nerves terribly. Though it had felt nice at first, that was before she realized what was going on or who was touching her. And yet... His fingernail dragging across her cold, bare skin, caused more goosebumps, a shiver running through her every few seconds. The metal cuffs around her wrists had started to hurt, and anytime she moved the edges rubbed painfully against her skin. If she struggled hard enough, it would more than likely start cutting into her. "If you say so."

He grabbed her then, digging his nails into her skin. "If you think to appease me with false submission, you would be wrong," he hissed. "I've been at this far too long for you to fool me as easily as that.” He twisted his hand before releasing her. "I am not fooled by your actions, girl." He walked a few paces away before turning to look at her, tapping his finger on his lips. "I wonder..."

He walked to the door and opened it, summoning a locked box to his hands which he set down several feet in front of her. "I admit to being curious," he said as he walked back to close the door. "I believe I had not heard what your particular boggart was in that class the werewolf taught."

He walked behind her then, bringing his arm around her and opening the box. "I should very much like to know what it is that you fear most."

From the moment Snape said the word 'boggart' she knew it wasn't going to be pleasant. At the moment, she feared so many things that having to pick just one was highly unreasonable, or so her brain thought.

"No...” Hermione turned her head further, shutting her eyes tight. She could hear the box open, and the fear set in double what it had already been. If she looked, if she opened her eyes and turned her head, she would see. And so would he. He would see it regardless, now that it had been opened.

She felt cold, slender fingers reach around her neck up to her chin, then turn her face forward. He growled something into her ear, but she wasn't paying attention to him anymore. The boggart had started to take its shape.

First, there was Ron. Dead, on his back, with SS carved into his chest. Then Ginny, only this time the initials were carved on her forehead. And then Remus, in the exact same manner, followed by Fred and then George. All her closest friends, dead, killed by Severus Snape, because of her. It was her fault that she had been captured, her fault he could now make Polyjuice to find them. And it was her that led the man straight to each one. And then, as the tears were just beginning, it turned into herself. Naked, alone, very skinny and crouched on the ground with her hands behind her head as she sobbed and rocked back and forth on her heels. She was alone, with the knowledge that she had in a way killed her friends, until she died of natural causes.

She twisted in the chains, closing her eyes and tossing her head one way then the other. The mental images of what she had just seen would not go away, and whenever she closed her eyes she would see them, dead. And her, alone and beaten for the rest of her life.

She wouldn't look, the boggart remained as a mist, almost formless. He grabbed her face and turned it forward. "Look at it, girl," he growled as he held her there. Finally it took form, and he was rewarded with a vision much as he expected, only better. His initials carved into each body; his breath hissed out of him as he watched. And then there she was, alone, crying. She started to twist in the chains and he watched her. Looking back to the boggart he dispatched it before it could take on his fear, locking the box behind it.

"How interesting," he said softly as he walked to the box, picking it up. "Foresight is a gift which you seem to have. Perhaps Trelawney should have taken lessons from you."

Slowly, Hermione calmed herself down and looked at the man. He may have seen her worst fear, but he didn't see all her fears. And, he had already assumed as much would be her worst fear, he was really no better off than before he had done it. At least, not in her mind.

She watched him walk, silently observing his nature and presence. "It's not.. foresight, it's just an irrational fear." Even she couldn't talk herself in to believing that it wouldn't happen, not now. But still, she had to try in some way to appear strong to him. The hair sticking to her half-dried and bloody cut was irritating her, causing that side of her face to feel extremely hot and her eye to water. She swallowed, licking her dry lips once more before speaking again.

"And, can you clean this cut before you leave?"

"Can I? Yes. Will I?" He moved slowly to where she was before shifting the box under one arm and looking at her cut. He snapped his fingers and the elf appeared obediently. Without a word he held out the box and the little creature took it before vanishing again.

He held her jaw then and angled her face for a better look. He said nothing as he cleared off the old blood, ensuring the cut was clean. He held his wand to her throat as he placed his mouth against her cut, tasting her yet again; he might become tired of it, but not yet. He spoke the healing spell against her skin and felt the cut after it closed.

"Disgusts you, does it not?" he whispered.

The mixed feelings she was now getting drove her mad inside. On the one hand, to have such a man as Snape- no, specifically Snape, lick her blood was beyond disturbing. The way it felt, however, was a completely different aspect of the situation that she never before had the time nor wit about her to stop and actually feel. Perhaps, what she hated more than him doing it was that physically it felt good, and she couldn't deny it. Once he had finished, she could not find the words or gut to answer him. She simply turned her face once more hiding behind her hair. This time, though, an evil blush had crossed her face. One she detested and wanted to deny ‘til she had no breath left to continue.

He pulled back when she pulled away, and headed to the door. "I will send you food, but if you continue to throw it I will stop."

He released her then, letting her fall if she could not support herself. “I believe I shall allow you some time to consider your situation. I may monopolize your time soon, however." He smiled; not a warm, tender smile either. "Good evening," he commented as he exited the room. Calling for his elf again, he directed it to care for her before removing himself to the upper part of the house for the evening.


	4. Four

Hermione landed on her knees painfully, her whole body aching and sore though the cuts had been completely healed. At least she didn't have the stinging to deal with anymore, or the blood. After a few minutes, the same male house elf appeared in the room with another tray of food. After staring at the shaky little creature for a moment, she reached forward and took the tray gently, setting it on the floor in front of her. When she had looked up, the elf was gone. So much for company.

She ate half of the food, though making it clear to herself that it wasn't for him but for her friends. Somehow, she had to find a way out. The glass of water, however, was completely emptied. After fiddling nervously with the bloody strands of hair, she moved to the mattress and sat with her feet on the stone floor. Nothing, she could think of nothing more that night. With a sigh, she picked up the tray and slid it underneath the mattress, hiding it from view. She could use it later, if given a good enough chance. A strained yawn fought its way free, followed by a small series of dry coughs. Her head hurt terribly, so bad that her pulse was pounding in her ears. She moaned at the complete soreness, pain and frustration she was in before curling up on the mattress and falling asleep.

He slipped into the room as she slept, watching her doze on what had to be one of the most uncomfortable beds he could imagine. The elf accompanied him to clean up; Snape silenced him with a look when it was about to tell him of the missing tray.

"Bring water," he mentioned to it quietly before it left. When it returned he cast a charm to make the glass unbreakable, and one to keep it from running empty. He stepped over quietly to check her forehead; the girl was shivering in her sleep. He really didn't prefer her getting sick and dying, so he placed a warming charm on the blanket and placed it upon her. He left the room then, allowing the creature to set warming charms in place around the room before leaving as well. No, it would not do for her to become ill.

Hermione woke up at some point, to find that she was warm and had a new glass of water as well. She sat up and drank it down, only to be met with the nice surprise of it refilling itself. She drank that glass as well and set the newly filled glass of water back on the floor. The air was still cold in the room, but around where she had been laying was a nice pocket of warmth. _I guess he doesn't want me sick..._ After a few minutes spent mulling over her current condition, she decided to get a bit more sleep. But first, she removed the tray from under the mattress and held it underneath her body under the blanket. Her sleep, like the last, was completely dreamless.

In the morning he entered with the elf as it brought her breakfast, setting it on the floor near her. He, on the other hand, conjured a chair and sat in it, watching her sleep and waiting for her to wake. After about five minutes he tired of it, however.

"Wake, Granger," he said in a low tone. "Your day awaits you."

Hermione's insides jerked as she was brought out of her dreamless sleep by the sound of Snape’s voice. He was close, but not close enough to make the tray of any use- yet. Slowly, she turned her head as she continued to lay on the mattress underneath the blanket. After everything, he had still left her in her bra and panties. They, however, provided very little warmth and covered too little to be considered 'dressed enough' to get out of 'bed'. Her left hand clenched around the edge of the tray underneath her as she opened her eyes and stared back at the dark man who was holding her life in his hands.

"Ah, 'my day awaits me'... What glorious fun shall I have this time, sir?"

"Impudent witch," he growled. "You will discover that as the day progresses; now rise before I force you." He leaned back and crossed his legs, resting his arms on the chair as he waited. "Stop wasting my time, I have little to spare for you today as it is."

Hermione watched him through strands of wavy, messed hair. Slowly, with the blanket clutched to her chest, she sat up, keeping her left hand firmly wrapped around the edge of the tray that was now halfway under her leg.

"Well then, by all means please do go about this business of yours elsewhere. I'll be fine by myself, no need to worry."

His lip curled as she answered so flippantly, not really wanting to rise to her bait. But she taunted him, and he did not take that well at all. Ever. He rose from the chair with a growl and advanced on her, grabbing the blanket to pull it from her. He would teach her a lesson for defying him; she must not realize her situation.

"Get UP NOW!" He could easily have used magic, but there was something truly satisfying about physical intimidation, and fear in the eyes of his prey.

As he threw the blanket off of her, she blindly brought the tray up over her head and swung it downward. Though her aim was his head, she really wasn't quite sure what it was that she had hit. Every point against him was quite worth it, or so she felt.

He caught her motion and raised his arm to protect against her strike. She had hit fairly hard, however, and he was somewhat successful at avoiding it, though not completely.

"Enough!" he snarled as he grabbed for the tray, intending to pull it from her hands and throw it across the room.

Hermione was pulled forward as he jerked the tray from her hands, causing her to fall off the mattress and into his body. Her hands instantly grabbed at his waist for support, and it was then she realized it was her second chance at getting his wand. As her knees hit the hard floor, her right hand let go of his clothes and began furiously searching for the wand.

"While I appreciate your desire to touch, I believe you will not find what you are searching for," he said in an almost amused voice. Almost. "I am not so foolish as to bring it in here with you roaming so freely."

He brought her up to her feet and pulled her hard against him, her face mere inches from his own.

"Perhaps it is time for a more... physical... approach after all, Miss Granger."

He had left his wand? He had come in there with her, knowing she could fight him, without his wand? The action spoke loud and clear to her; it meant that she really was no match for him. That she couldn't win, and he knew it as well as she now did. Her eyes closed tightly as her face was brought so close to his. She could feel his breath against her skin, which caused her body to tremble slightly in his grasp.

No, she didn't want a different 'approach'. She didn't want any sort of 'approach' at all. As far as she knew, he had what he needed from her. Why then did he continue this game? Being pressed against his body, she found herself unable to ask the question, her voice becoming lost somewhere in the flurry of anger, sadness and confusion in her mind.

"Giving up so quickly?" he asked, feigning disappointment. "I didn't think I'd see the day."

He gently rubbed his hand on her back, carefully raking his nails as he did. Her shivers were more than pleasant, and indicated to him that she wasn't nearly as opposed to his touch as she thought- or at least she was confused by it. Lovely. He was fairly certain that what he told her in the beginning was something he could still bring her to.

He pulled her against him again, using his free hand to wrap his cloak around her to warm her. He brushed his lips against her shoulder, prepared to bite her should she bite him again.

"Is this better?" he asked, "or perhaps you prefer the pain?"

Hermione continued to shiver as his nails dragged across her back, giving her goosebumps all over. As if that wasn't enough- as if she wasn't already confused and lost beyond all hope, he then wrapped his cloak around her. She couldn't help but regrettably enjoy the sudden warmth that he gave her. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt his lips brush against her shoulder, her eyes opening in confusion and shock. She really did not understand this man. Either that, or she was being completely naive. Given the situation, either could have been the case, or both.

‘Is this better? Or perhaps you prefer the pain?’ She wanted to answer him. She wanted to scream and hit and kick at him, all the while yelling at him that yes- she preferred the pain rather than his touch, his smell, his warmth... Her arms remained limp at her sides as she let herself be enveloped in his arms. Soon, the benefit of the warmth would wear off, and she could once again fight against him. Or, try to at least.

He pulled back and looked at her face, pleased with her confusion. "You will learn that the touch of my hand need not be harsh," he told her. "I have no issues with drawing blood or worse; cries of pain do not soften my heart." He traced over the scars on her back, his name set within her flesh marking her as his. "I do enjoy hearing your voice, however. Pain or pleasure, it is entirely your decision. Both have value for me."

She could tell what he was tracing along her back, and truth be told she had almost forgotten about the scars spelling out his name on her skin. Her eyes met with his as he spoke, and she felt that for the world she wouldn't be able to move again as long as his voice kept flowing through her mind.

Almost like a blessing, he had stopped talking. She blinked, swallowing hard trying to recover her voice. "No," was all Hermione could manage, her voice weak and ragged. No what? No, she did not want to feel any more pain. No, she did not want to be at his mercy. No, she did not want to continue enjoying the warmth he kept giving her. No, she did not want to give in to his touches and no, she did not want to accept that just maybe it would be better than fighting against him.

No... She had to think of her friends, who he would capture or kill sooner or later, all thanks to her. She had to think of Ginny- no telling what horrible things she had been put through at the hands of Draco Malfoy. And she couldn't help but feel that she would rather have been taken by Severus than by Draco. At least this man was mature, wise and- No, what was she thinking?! He was much more cruel, calculating, corrupt and dark.

She choked back a sob and turned her head away from his face. It was just plain pathetic and hopeless, the situation she was in and the feelings she could no longer control.

"No?" he repeated. "No what? No, you would rather have pain, rather be cold, rather starve?" He pushed her to the bed, out from under the warmth of his cloak. "Very well, you have it. You see? You might have things you want on occasion," he said in an altogether too pleased tone. "I might be willing to accommodate to an extent; there are, after all, things I require. Understand, however, that I have no qualms with enforcing my will. You need only live; the manner in which you live I leave to you."

This was not entirely true; she would not live upstairs with him, he would not trust her. He would not treat her as a queen or exalt her- she was a prisoner, after all; a Muggleborn witch entrusted to his 'care'. She was clever, he wouldn't make the mistake of underestimating her; and she had far more fight in her than she was showing right now. Truth be known, he enjoyed it, her temerity, her will. It made it all the sweeter for him, for she would give in eventually.

The absence of his warmth and touch snapped her back to reality. He was like a terribly effective drug, one that induced confusion and the loss of will-power. She pulled the blanket over her body, still trying to hide herself from his gaze that fell all too easily over her bare skin.

Hermione took a deep breath. All that filled her mind now was the thought of her friends, and Ginny. Wasn't there anything she could do to prevent their capture or death? Surely, there just had to be. She had never been so naive in her entire life.

"What can I do...?” She swallowed another sob and looked up at his face. "What do you want, in exchange for leaving them alone? What can I do to save them now...” A few silent tears fell down her face as her pride fell to the ground at his feet. She had not given up, but for now, she had to stop being selfish. "Please."

He lowered himself until he was at eye level with her, sitting on his heels. He tilted his head as he looked at her with an expression of pity. Stretching out a hand, he cupped her face, wiping a tear away with his thumb.

"You ask me to disobey the Dark Lord for you, do you know it?" he whispered. "You ask me to save people who would kill me on sight, whose location I am not even aware of." He brought his other hand to her face and pulled it close to his, looking directly into her eyes. "You ask me to risk death for you, who would kill me if you were able. What do you think it would take?"

He released her with a light shove and moved swiftly to the chair he had abandoned earlier and sat in it, relaxing into it, awaiting her response.

Hermione was once again held captive by his touch, his voice and his eyes. Her mouth moved slightly, as if she was trying to answer him, but no words came out. She did not move once he had let her go, except to place her hands behind her to keep from falling over from his shove. Her eyes followed his across the room as he sat in the chair, watching her with those dark, endless eyes of his.

"I... I don't know. Tell me, and it will be done." She sniffed back the rest of her tears, determined to remain as calm as possible. "Just leave them alone- please."

He snorted, looking at the walls and away from her. "As though it is my command to stay." He looked back at her and smiled wryly as he unbuttoned a few more buttons on his jacket so he could reach inside and remove his wand. With a flick she was dressed- well, a light dress that at least covered her, nothing fancy. He leaned to one side of the chair and crossed his legs before pointing at the floor before him with his wand.

"Beg me," he said in a soft, menacing voice. "Convince me."

She jumped as he flicked his wand at her, then again when she felt the material of a dress covering her. She looked down at the dress; it was off-white with a fitted front so that it fell loosely just underneath her breasts. It fell about midway down her thighs, and the sleeves were a bit long that flared at the ends, covering the tops of her hands just past the knuckles. It was actually quite pretty, though the material was a tad thin. And that's when it hit her- he did have his wand with him. For a minute she thought over her options, as if they had changed much by the fact that he indeed had his wand. If she was to act on the chance, she would need to get closer, within his personal space, and bring his guard down. And that was no easy task, to get Severus Snape to let his guard down even in the slightest.

Hermione bit her bottom lip and gathered herself off the mattress, letting the dress fall down around her before crossing the room, coming to stand directly in front of him. She paused, wondering if just standing there would be enough, but he had pointed at the floor. Slowly, she lowered herself onto her knees in front of him, and once more her voice was lost. She stared into his eyes before forcing herself to lower her face and close her eyes against whatever might happen next.

"...Please."

He shifted in his seat slightly, bringing his wand hand over the back of the chair and lifting her face to his with his other. "Please what?" he asked softly. He saw the fear, the desperation, the cunning in those eyes. No, she wasn't prepared to surrender yet, but getting there was the greater part of the fun.

"I said convince me," he told her silkily as he pulled her face toward his slightly. He could smell her fear, her... ahh yes, something she was uncomfortable with, he was sure.

"Make me believe you, tell me what you want from me, and what it is worth to you."

"Please...” Her voice was small, barely above a whisper. Before she could bring herself to say any more, he was speaking again. That damned voice, weaving through her mind like a cunning and swift vine full of thorns. Yet, while in it‘s grasp, she was suspended, unable to react or respond. She opened her eyes as he pulled her face close to his, his scent filling her nose and lungs.

"I want you to leave them alone, all of them." Hermione swallowed, wetting her chapped lips before continuing. "It is worth anything, just name your price. Please."

His arm was draped over the top of the chair, tapping it with his wand. He released her face and leaned back, looking down his nose at her. "I am not convinced," he said simply. "I would have expected more from someone whose best friends lives were hanging by a mere thread."

He pushed himself from the chair, standing before her. He was actually surprised; she was barely putting any effort into it at all. If he were in the same situation- well, he wouldn't be worried about his friends. He knew they could take care of themselves, and he never begged for anything (except maybe Mercy from the Dark Lord when he was much younger, but it had been years). He found he couldn't really identify with the situation after all. He turned toward the chair, tapping it to make it disappear before pulling his robes around himself more tightly.

"Good day," he said, nodding at her and turning toward the door. If she were desperate enough (and honest enough), he would know in a matter of seconds...

Hermione fell forward on her hands as he stood and walked away. The urge in her throat to either cry, scream or throw up was overwhelming. Her right hand grabbed at the tail end of his cloak as he stalked away from her. She turned her face up to his, waiting for him to look back at her.

"Please! I'll do anything you ask of me, what more is there that I can offer?! You already have everything I can give, but if there is anything else, anything at all, please... please just accept this exchange. I beg of you...“

Her voice began to break at the last bit, but she refused to look away or let go of his cloak. He had taken her freedom, her pride, her wand, her free will and her life. There were only a few things, if that, left that he could take from her, and she'd be damned if she let herself dwell on what they were, but it didn't matter in the long run. What mattered was saving her friends, and by whatever grace there may be, getting a chance to catch him off guard and escape. She knew it would take a while, if it were to ever happen at all. Her main objective, she had decided, was to secure the safety of her friends first. Then, and only then, would she worry about herself once more.

He felt the tug on his cloak and looked over his shoulder to watch her. He slowly turned as she begged; her voice had never sounded sweeter- especially when it nearly broke. It was power, pure and simple; to hear a proud individual crack was something he never tired of, and now, before him on her hands and knees, the once proud best friend of the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Fail was begging him, the one they despised so much was the one she was begging.

"I do have almost everything now," he said as he reached a hand toward her to help her stand. "Yet you still fight the inevitable. Show me how much you want to save them. Prove it. If I am convinced, I may at least delay, if not stay my hand."

He gripped his wand tightly to prevent it from being jerked from him, ready to hex if need be. He watched her intently, enjoying the struggle reflected in her eyes.

Slowly, she took his hand and stood, but once she was standing she did not jerk her hand away or step back from him.

Prove it, show me, convince me... Her mind was a blur, a million thoughts at once rushing through her brain, and not a single one stayed long enough for her to think more on it.

"Please, just tell me what you want! I don't know what you're wanting from me, I don't... I don't know what it is you are expecting me to do, to already know that you want. But if you just tell me...”

Hermione took a step closer as she spoke the last, then took his arm and pressed her front against it, clinging to it as if it was her only life line... and it was. If only he'd tell her what he wanted. She could not stand the thought of having to assume what it was, let alone think on it very long. She also did not want to look a fool, if she assumed wrong. Then again, her pride was still on the floor at his feet. Such a last ditch effort, begging Severus Snape for anything. She looked into his eyes, awaiting his response, and if there was any good left in him, she thought, he would just tell her what he wanted.

He slowly brought the arm that she was clinging to around her until his hand lay flat on the small of her back. He swiftly pulled her to him, grasping her behind her neck with his other hand, his wand hand. His focus was entirely on her now.

"Let me see your intended betrayal of me," he hissed. "Why you want these people saved; your hatred, your disgust. Or better yet, the reason you shiver in my arms... Legilimens."

Hermione gasped as she was pulled to him, hardly given any time to prepare herself before his mental assault. She felt herself go rigid and tense in his grasp before the memories and emotions started to fly by.

First, she was sitting in the Potions classroom, eleven years old, watching Snape introduce himself to the class. She had left that day feeling respect for him, in an odd sort of way. Several different class times flew by, and in each one she had felt admiration for the man, even if just a little bit. A flash of a few nights in the Gryffindor Tower, a talk with Harry and Ron. She was always standing up for Snape, even after he killed Dumbledore she felt that there was something underneath it all, and all those years spent admiring him and his intelligence surely weren't a waste.

Years flew by. She tried to find out where he was and what he was up to, and though it was for the Order, on the inside it was partly for her own curiosity. He had become too dangerous, and she had given up the search. Suddenly she had been thrown the harsh reality she had denied for years; Severus Snape was indeed a dark and cruel man. His actions, his words, his loyalty... She did not want to accept it.

Then, she was brewing Wolfsbane in a back room with the twins, when Ron rushed in, bloody, and said that Harry was dead. Her stomach twisted. _Stop!_

She was being thrown into that dark and horrid room, her skin still tingling from the touch of the man who had captured her. Her emotions were having a battle.

'Why do I feel that way when he touches me?' 'Just look at him.' 'No, he's evil, I could never... Harry and Ron were right.' 'You know better.' 'Do I?' 'Does it even matter?' 'Not anymore...’

Her thoughts then flashed to Harry. And Ron. And Ginny, the Twins, Remus, all the Weasleys...

'It'll be your fault if they are captured, or if they die.' 'They don't deserve that, it isn't fair! Just for me being weak when it comes to him...’ 'Why does he make you weak?' 'How wouldn't he...?' Her brain screamed against his attack on her mind, her emotions now mixing dangerously. She just wanted it to stop, and for her friends to be safe. She just wanted... _NO!_

Hermione's eyes shot open; she had broken the connection and freed her mind from his grasp, but it had come at a cost. Though she did not know it, she had tried to drop to the ground but he had held on tightly. She had then placed her hands on his shoulders and dug her fingertips into the material of his cloak, pressing hard against him. Then, as though she had planned to do it all along, she had tipped forward and pressed her lips firmly against his, and it had worked; the connection was broken.

He was surprised, to say the least. All throughout and even afterwards, she had defended him. How incredibly naive, he thought. Only now is she figuring him out? But that wasn't nearly as interesting as the last bits he learned before she broke the connection. Amazing, and she tried to fall from his grip but he didn't allow it. This girl was the very definition of guileless; she wanted terribly to believe he was not what he was, and that he was the tragic victim of circumstances. Not that he was the master of his own life, captain of his destiny. It was nearly intoxicating; she could be manipulated.

Then she pressed her lips to his and he froze, waiting for her to try to force the wand from his hand, or bite and draw blood or worse. She didn't; she kissed him, and it was shy, gentle, and relatively innocent. And she was his. His to defile, to ruin. He could teach her things... oh, could he teach her... but she would still need to be brought to see that he is her only option beyond death. Those were her two, whether she realized it or not.

So he let her kiss him in her innocent, cautious fashion. He felt her against him, and decided to allow her this. The Dark Lord might not approve- she was Muggleborn, after all; but he was also half-blood. His Lord had never suggested heirs from him as he did from the purebloods who would never touch a girl like this. Part of his value to his Lord, however, was the fact that he was indeed not a pureblood; he didn't have to deal with certain restrictions. So, if she offered her innocence to him...

"Like this," he growled as he deepened the kiss; it was harsh, demanding. He didn't bite or harm her, however. He released her then, stepping back and licking his lips.

"Think long and hard on that, girl."

She stumbled back a step or two, her eyes still open wide staring back at his. What had she done? Why had she done it? She was barely aware of the dull throbbing in her lips from his return kiss; it had been rough, and yet she could do nothing but let him continue. Her heart skipped a beat, and her throat opened up to words she did not even mean to utter out loud, yet she did.

"Think long and hard on what."

A wicked grin spread across his face as he watched the play of emotions on her face. "If you wish to play, we may play. As I said before, I guarantee certain things. However, as I have also said before, you have value in your.. current state. Have no illusions that I would not accept a gift such as this."

He spoke in an almost clinical tone, not harsh or cruel. He understood, or so he believed he might, how to get to her now. After all, there were many forms of torture; pain and cruelty strengthened her resolve, but this- this confused her. Confusion was but a few steps from the break, and that was where he wanted her, that very edge at which her existence came to depend upon and revolve around one thing- him, and she both knew and accepted it. He had sworn that she would beg him for release of one sort or another. She had already begged, she wasn't as far from it as she may think she was.

"Consider all that has happened to you in the recent past. Tell me how you would have this proceed. I may allow you some choice in it; I'm feeling rather magnanimous at the present time," he offered. It would be his way, but he wasn't aversed to allowing a certain sense of control for her. After all, he might enjoy fostering a sense of dependancy in her. 

Hermione had never felt so embarassed and naive in her entire life. Was that it? Was that what he had been wanting from her? He had hinted at it before, threatened her vaguely, yet she had not taken much weight with it. Until then. She had kissed him, and he had taken it to mean that she was giving herself completely up to him. After all, how was that not the case? Besides having no choice anymore, she also had told him she would do anything he asked of her. To obey him completely.

Her eyes fluttered closed as the realization of what she had done hit her finally. ‘Tell me how you would have this proceed..’ _What 'this'? You know 'what', so stop trying to believe there's any good in him._ She swallowed and opened her eyes.

"How ever you wish it to, just promise to leave them alone."

Ahh, but she was lovely in her struggle, her misunderstanding. He reached out and touched her chin gently, bringing her eyes to his. "There are things that only virgins can acquire; potions that only the undefiled may make. Clearly I cannot do either. It would be a great asset if I had a willing innocent to assist me." He ran his thumb lightly over her slightly swollen lips, tempted to take them again. Instead, he released her and stepped back. "That is your value in your current state."

As it had become the trend for her as of late, she fell silent and motionless under his touch. She felt a tug at her heart, the confusion inside her boiling over the top, leaving her at quite a loss for words or any action. She didn't know whether to take it that he had no interest in her sexually now, or that he did but was merely toying with her, and the uncertainty of it was almost tearing her resolve apart.

Make potions; this she could do, and do well. He was dangling a bit of her pride in front of her, offering it back to her, but dare she take the bait? For the life of her she could not decide what to do next, so.. she simply nodded and looked away once he had stepped back, removing his paralyzing touch from her skin.

As she stood staring blankly at the wall, she felt a surge of something rise in her chest. Hope, the illusion of a chance- or maybe she was actually looking forward to brewing potions under his supervision again. She turned back to him suddenly. "Will I be brewing down here? There's no way to vent the fumes.."

Was that disappointment he sensed for a moment? Delicious, she was coming along nicely. Then, there was that thirst for knowledge; her desire to do something. Know-it-all that she was, he knew she couldn’t refuse the opportunity any more than he would have at that age. It was a strength and a weakness, and it was useful to him. Not that he would allow her to make poisons, or that her potions wouldn’t be tested on others to prevent poisoning; he was not so foolish as to allow that. Still, if she did well it would relieve him of brewing and working with healing potions, and free his time for the more useful, darker potions.

“Of course there is a way to vent the fumes,” he answered her. “It is strongly warded, however; I would even say well hidden.” With another wave of his wand a window appeared high in the wall; a basement window in fact. It was painted black and grimy, and it had bars on it. “In fact, allow me to show you something.”

With a word he released the glamour, and the image of what appeared to be a stone room fell away to a normal room with wood floors and papered walls; dark, dreary, and still near empty. He took a long look around before bringing his gaze back to her. “You still cannot leave this room; not even through the window, do not waste your time. The same ward that protects the door protects the window.” He turned to the door to leave, “I shall return momentarily.”

He left without further explanation; he wanted to find an elf and arrange for her meal, and possibly choose a few potions to show her, to tempt her.

Hermione continued to just stare around at the new room she found herself in, even after he had left. Though still a bit dark and dreary, it was far better than the dungeon look, that was for sure. Slowly, she made her way around the room, running her fingertips over the torn paper still half covering the walls. Somehow, the smell in the room had changed as well. It was no longer a stale, moldy scent but more of a burnt, bitter smell. A combination she had learned to associate with Snape long ago. It was like his signature, and seemed to linger much longer than any other person's smell she had ever known. Just another thing that assaulted her senses when he was around.

She did try the window, but it was obviously no use. At least, she let herself enjoy the small view of the outside world for a few seconds, standing on the tip of her toes to barely peek out the dirty pane of glass.

With a sigh, she turned and looked around the new room once more. It had a definite feel of being lived in at one point in time. With renewed curiousity, she began to walk the walls once more, this time looking for any odd crack, hole, or anything that could lead to another secret or two. It didn't take her long to find it.

There was an oddly thick section of wall paper that looked as if it had outright refused to peel like the rest of the paper around it, yet it's coloration and fading were the same. She ran her fingernails around the edge until she found what she was hoping to find; a small nitch where the square could be removed. Slowly, she pulled back and held her breath as thankfully the chunk pulled away from the wall in one solid piece. Behind it, in a small shelf inside the wall, were small seemingly meaningless items, some old papers, and a photograph. She fingered at two very small and empty bottles that were tinted a sick sort of green and the other a very rusty orange. The corks in them were brittle and she felt if she removed them they would crumble and fall apart. Then she picked up the papers, and skimmed over one of them. It was no surprise, they were mainly potion notes, though to what potions Hermione had no idea, she had never seen such mixtures suggested, such methods taught or used. She quickly replaced the papers, and lastly, picked up the photograph. Her head tilted and her eyes widened a bit as the old and dusty photo slowly came to live after being stuffed away in that hidden shelf for Merlin knows how long. It was a picture of Snape, in what looked to be his mid teens. He was standing in front of what appeared to be a very old yet proud and fine manor house. Every once in a while, he would look to his right, then to his left, only to return his gaze to the front or down at his feet. It was very odd, seeing Snape at such an age. Not even aware of what his future held, what horrible things he would come to do. She almost felt like crying, but held it in.

With a deep breath, she gathered the things in the shelf and took them to the matress before returning to replace the cover of thick wall paper over the shelf, making sure the edges laid down properly, as if no-one had touched it at all. She then quickly hid all the papers and the photo underneath the matress, and placed the two bottles behind the head of the matress which was against the wall. Though she didn't know what use any of them could serve her, she had to take the opportunity to stash them away, just in case.

Her mind continued to linger on the image of a young Snape as she sat on the edge of the matress, waiting for him to return.


	5. Chapter 5

He entered brusquely, slamming the door open and waiting for the elf to finish levitating various potions-making equipment to a corner of the room before closing it, watching Hermione all the while. The elf set up the equipment and vanished. Snape walked over to the table to inspect it, and cast a few enchantments on it before turning back to her, affecting his best professorial stance.

"I shall allow you my indulgence in this, and you may have the privilege as long as I see fit. The implements are charmed; do not attempt to harm me, it is not possible with these." He strode to where she sat on the edge of the mattress and lifted her eyes to his before speaking again.

"You will not brew poisons and break the vials in my face, you cannot stab me with the knives; I suggest you put such foolish notions as out of mind." He released her face and motioned toward the table, offering her permission to look at it. "You have ingredients to make various potions, sans poisons. I shall give you a challenge soon; let us see what your vaunted intelligence can make of it."

She watched out the corner of her eye as the elf set everything up. She didn't know whether she should let her anticipation show, however wrong it may have been, or to contain herself. He already knew she wasn't against it, and that she if possible was looking forward to it.

Hermione's muscles tensed as he took her chin and made her look up at him, as he seemed to enjoy doing. She had figured as much, that she wouldn't be able to use any of it against him, and to be honest with herself, even with a knife she did not think it possible to actually escape him. It would need time, planning, and a closer position to him than she was in now. If Severus Snape was ever to be bested, it would have to be done as close to him as possible, while his guard was down. So, she pushed such thoughts to the back of her mind and set her attentions to the task at hand.

"What shall I make first, then? I don't believe I have ever learned such potions that require virgins make it, or virgin blood. I assume you will be leaving me with instructions?"

Without invitation, she stood up and made her way to the table without waiting for his response.

"When the time comes, I shall," he replied with no real emotion as he watched her make her way around the table. So young, she had a great deal of spirit, but she would learn soon enough; all that vaunted intellect, surely she had common sense as well.

"I am feeling rather generous this day, so you may practice, do as you wish. When I am ready for you to make a proper brew, you shall know it." He walked to the door before turning sharply to watch her for a few more moments.

"Surely you can recall at least one potion without a book, Miss Granger? You seemed to be such an expert in school. Was it all a lie?" he taunted, crossing his arms before him, daring her to take the bait. A small gesture; motioned toward the table without uncrossing his arms. "Come now, girl. I'm waiting..."

Hermione stood perfectly still in front of the table. Laden with so many possibilities that the images of potion instructions after potion instructions flew through her mind at an almost blinding speed. Had it really been so long since she was presented with such a scene? It was always the same; Wolfsbane, various health potions, dreamless sleep draughts.. But this was a nearly blank canvas, with no set directions or expectations other than to do her best.

She pulled a shallow basin to her then looked up at Snape with an expression that could only be described as acceptance. Of her situation, the task laid in front of her, and of him. It was something she thought he needed to see reflected back at him in her eyes.

"Could you add some water to this, so I may wash my hands first? I don't wish to use the water provided as additional ingredient material for something like washing my hands." Her eyes did not waiver, nor did her stance or her emotions.

He watched as she thought, the same familiar expression upon her face. So many years he had taught her, it was effortless to know when she was calculating- and with this girl it seemed to be always. Her mind never seemed to rest- he could respect that. He returned her look with an expression of triumph, pleased that she appeared to finally accept her situation. In truth he didn’t believe it; he thought she might be attempting to lull him into a false sense compliance, and he remained guarded. Upon her request he summoned the elf with no more than a lazy flick of his wand. “Tend to her needs,” he ordered in a low tone, watching as the creature provided the water she needed.

He conjured a chair again and relaxed into it, his grip on his wand tight as he watched. “Begin,” he told her, waiting to see what creative ideas she might develop- or what staid projects she might produce. Either way, he settled in, crossing his legs.

She dipped her hands into the water, and took her time with making sure she was thoroughly clean before looking back up to Snape, then removing her hands and drying them off on one of the two hand towels provided for her on the table. She chose the off-white one, leaving the dark green one (almost black it was so dark) for the actual 'dirty work'.

Hermione had two choices now. Either make something amazing, that he would more than likely turn his nose up to, or... It took almost two hours, but she had made something of utmost quality. She moved around the table in a way that prevented him from seeing exactly what ingredients she added, at which times, and even sometimes how she prepared them, but the end result was something she knew he'd recognize the instant she presented it to him.

"Here you are. I know the general consensus is that this specific potion takes a full moon cycle to mature, but as I'm sure you know, when used in conjunction with the accelerated root growth of-" Her eyes flashed over his expression, and a small hint of a grin formed before she caught it and cast her face down at the small bottle in her hands. She was always proud of her creations, no matter how small or simple. This was a potion that not only he could appreciate, but could also make use of.

"As you also know, the use of such methods not only accelerates the rate at which it matures, but also the potency. Since most wizards and witches carry an antidote for this serum now, this could be of use as the hightened potency that I have made here.. will render the antidote quite ineffective. But again, you know that. So. Here you go."

She walked to him as he sat in his chair and extended the bottle in her hand to him only once she was so directly in front of him that he could not stand up with ease, or without moving her aside. Her chin raised slightly as their eyes met.

"Veritaserum. Accelerated maturity rate. Antidote resistant." Maybe not what he was expecting, but also something he would be able to appreciate. She wasn't going to exhaust her efforts on potions she already knew. No, she was saving her real energy for the new ones. The ones he had in mind specifically for her. Besides, what the serum was used for in itself was a not-so-subtle hint at his past and how the issue of trust surrounded him from every side. It was either a bold statement, or a very immature move on her part. His reaction would determine which.

Methodically and neatly she worked, keeping her work area neat and organized; something he could not only respect but appreciate. She had the same work habit in the classroom; without a doubt she had been one of his best students- not that he would ever tell her such a thing. Clearly her studying had paid off, as she had exhibited no difficulty or hesitation with the task assigned to her.

When she presented the final product he listened to her lecture, surprised by what she had produced; this was not the sort of thing he had expected from her. Accelerated no less; an intriguing idea that he had indeed read. Here, in this basement, with limited resources this slip of a girl had managed to produce a very complex- and very useful potion. She held it out to him as she stood close enough to prevent him from being able to rise without brushing against her; surely this was a ruse. He noted her expression of pride, and narrowed his eyes.

“Drink it,” he said in a very quiet voice, not a trace of a smile on his face. “Prove that it works, drink it.” He watched for every emotion that passed over her face, her reaction was something he was highly interested in.

Hermione had expected as much, but had held on to a small little ounce of hope that he wouldn't ask it of her, but he did. Of course he did. Wouldn't be Snape any other way, now would it? He had already raped her mind- her memories, her feelings, her naive trust in him throughout the years were all his knowledge now. Still, he demanded more. _It was immature of me, bold or not. And if I drop it, destroy it, or refuse.. he'll either simply make me do it again, or force me._

She shifted her weight, refusing to give way in case he wanted to stand. "Why should I? You've seen enough, haven't you? And anyways, you know it'll work- I made it."

He frowned, watching her defiance; so close and yet so far. "I know nothing of the sort. You certainly worked very hard to keep me from watching every step of the process." He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, making no real effort to stand; she was too close anyway.

"Drink it. After all of this, I shall not take you at your word," he said as he tapped his cheek- though the cut she had placed there was long gone. "Do you fear that I may ask something that you do not wish to answer?" he taunted. "Ask you to reveal your darkest secrets? I assure you, Granger, I have seen darker imaginings. Now drink it."

She did not give, or back away when he leaned forward. Instead, she herself leaned down a ways, her face almost even with his. "Try it out on someone else. I assure you it will work. Besides... I'm sure you have far better uses for a potion such as this, than to waste it on me." Hermione lifted her eyebrows at her last statement, then thrust the bottle into his hands.

He kept contact with her eyes as she shoved the potion into his hand, and he kept his gaze to hers for several moments before the edge of his mouth quirked. "Very well," he said softly as he tightened his grip on the bottle. "If you wish."

He stood suddenly, pushing his way forward to stand, not caring whether she lost her balance and fell or not. "Since you ask so nicely, I shall do exactly that. I believe that I shall leave you to a meal and a bath, perhaps; the elf shall attend you." He turned and strode to the door, pausing as he prepared to turn the handle.

"If you wish to know, Miss Granger, I believe I shall pay Draco a visit, and test this potion on his 'guest.' Consider yourself fortunate, I normally do not allow such requests." He turned to let himself out of the room, smiling darkly as he took the doorknob in hand once more.

Hermione did infact almost lose her balance, but caught herself quite clumsily on the arm of the chair. No, that's not what she had meant, not at all. Not Ginny. She may have had some illusion of keeping Snape from hunting down her friends by obeying him and serving him, but Draco wouldn't care less, nor would his father.

She flung herself forward again, grabbing at the bottle with her left hand, his wand with her right though that act was merely to draw his attention away from the potion. Hermione barely succeeded in clawing it from his hand before backing away a few steps, the bottle held tightly in both her hands at her chest.

"No, that's not what I meant." As he watched her with those stirring, coal black eyes, a plan (though simple as it was) formed quickly in her mind.

"Fine. I'll do it." She thumbed out the cork and tossed back the potion, moving her throat as if she had swallowed all of it, though she retained at least a quarter of the liquid inside her mouth. _Come to me, now. Come closer, just a tiny bit closer.. before this takes full effect. Oh, please let this work._

She was taking steps toward him, small as they may be, as her mind pleaded for him to draw near.. near enough for her plan to have even the smallest chance at working. It was unreal, how he could manipulate her into doing just about anything he wanted her to do. He was, in spite of his faults and past mistakes, nothing short of amazing.

He fought as she grabbed for the wand, gripping it exceptionally tightly, though he loosened his grip on the bottle as she clawed his hand. Red welts were forming on his hand by the time she had backed away and began to offer her speech. To his pleasure she drank it, and impassively he watched as she did. But when she began to approach, his brow furrowed, leery of her motives as she approached him. No antidote, more potent. She wouldn’t dare, she would overdose and be injured. Surely she knows that? He held his ground as she approached.

“Miss Granger, are you attempting to fool me, to be dishonest?” he asked. If she was indeed under the effects of Veritaserum, he would know soon enough.

She closed the distance between them, and looked from his chest slowly up to his face then his eyes. Her mouth almost opened to answer him, but she fought it. Fought what ever impending doom was before her, only seconds away.

It was already working, and quickly, making it feel as if her very veins were pulsing something ice hot along with her blood. It was taking over her motions, her vision, her will power. She had one shot at it, only one. Hermione nodded drunkenly at his question, though she was now so close to him it was hopefully no more than a wobble of a very sedated and drugged woman's head.

She dropped the bottle and tipped up on her toes, both arms wrapping up around his neck as her legs began to feel like wet noodles underneath her. Her eyes fluttered closed and she leaned in, placing her lips on his softly, in no way being intrusive or forceful. _Please.. I can't keep this up. Just accept this, please let this work..!_

She nodded. She didn't answer, just nodded; she was doing what he had suspected. He tensed at the feel of her arms around his neck, allowing her to place a light kiss on his lips. She was unsteady on her feet, and so he reached one arm around her waist to hold her up. His other hand snaked up her back, fingers tangling in her soft hair as her breath caressed his face. He ran his fingers through her hair twice before gripping it tightly and pulling her head back.

"Open your mouth for me," he growled, his eyes alternating between her eyes and her mouth. "Let me see the truth, open it." It was already late for her. Now, depending upon his questions he would know whether or not the potion was a success. "Show me."

Hermione's body didn't seem to care all that much about where it was moved to or what it was doing, which would have been quite unnerving if she had not taken a majority of the very potent Veritaserum she had just brewed. Her thoughts mixed and swayed between achieving her goal and answering his questions or demands. A small voice crept up on her, through the mist of confusion and weakness. _He didn't ask for an answer, he's simply comanding you to perform an action._

She swayed within his grasp, her heels almost touching back down on solid ground, but with one last jolt of effort she pushed herself back up to his face, her head pounding from his tangled fingers pulling her back harshly, bringing a tear or two to the corner of her eyes from the pain. Her foot slid forward out from underneath her, coming to land between his feet, her knee against his and her top half just kept on tipping forward against his body. Her hands held on to the back of his robes tightly, pulling him back as she came forward. Grunts of frustration and a growled demand barely found their way to her ears, and though she heard the sounds she did not understand any words that had been said.

The couple began to topple, him back and her forward. Suddenly, his hold on her hair was lifted, and as she opened her eyes she saw that his mouth was perfectly within her range. This time, she kissed him roughly and quickly. As soon as her lips met with his, she flicked her serum-soaked tongue out against his lips in an animalistic manner, pushing and licking in an almost pleading sort of way. He was fighting her, and she was not nearly strong enough to resist for more than a few seconds at best. But he was not steady, nor was she but what mattered was him. He was trying to catch his balance. She kept the small amount of serum in the back of her mouth, throat closed, just in case he accepted her this time, just in case she got her big chance. It took all the effort and control she had.

Finally his lips parted, though she did not know why or how. She pushed the serum in her mouth out and over her tongue and onto his lips, over his teeth.. And then her mind blurred horribly and she fell completely into his hold, her body now completely reliant on his ability to keep her steady and standing. Through it all, only one thing was ever present; the fast beating of both their hearts inside her ears. Her eyes closed and she focused soley on the solid chest she was against, and the strong heart beating inside of it.

She wondered often during her time with him, why he never used the Imperious Curse on her. How much easier it would be. The conclusion was always the same. _He wants me to suffer, and to force me to do something by the use of such a curse would not hurt my pride in the least._ Yet, when practically all her pride was now his anyways, why then? Why not then use it? Would he always remain a paradox to her- wrapped in a cloud of mystery, confusion and secrets?

She was trying so very hard, but he was not inclined to allow her to fulfill her wish- until she stumbled. Within seconds she was latched to him as he staggered back, grabbing for her hands to force her to release her grip on him- Until his back met the doorknob and he winced. That was his undoing. She had an instant and she used it, much to his horror. He felt the liquid as it spilled over his teeth and he growled, gripping her arms painfully tight and pushing her away as he slid down the door. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, but he knew it was already too late- and too much. His face reddened as he rolled away from her to stand; he was furious.

"What do you think this accomplishes?" he bellowed, moving to take her arm once more and force her to stand. "You will not receive answers from me," he told her as he shoved her to the bed, depositing her none too gently upon it. It was a good thing he had not allowed poison, but he hoped the antiserum he took daily to prevent issues with potions such as this to occur would kick in. His face paled as he felt the familiar lethargy, his eyes widening slightly as he turned and headed for the door.

"You believe you are clever, Miss Granger," he said as he placed a hand on the door, pausing for a moment. A thought occured to him and he turned, "If it is truth you wish, I will allow you one question, girl." He lowered his head and smiled darkly, taunting her, "and then I shall ask you a question. This is fair, is it not?"

She almost let herself just fall back onto the matress, but his words kept her attention, as if something inside her was tied to the smooth tone. Keeping her in one piece, though at the same time tearing her resolve and thoughts apart.

"Fair," Hermione slurred out before leaning against the bed post cloest to her, running a near limp hand through her messied hair.

 _Why such attention on me? Why the teasing? Why do you reel me in only to cast me back out, over and over?_ After nearly two minutes of blurred thoughts, drifting back and forth from the back of her mind, she looked up at him and opened her mouth to ask her question, head tilted against the post still.

"If I do as you wish, completely.. do you honestly swear that no harm will come to them? To my friends?"

She asked her question simply and plainly, and the urge to answer was pressing upon his mind. He faced her, having watched the myriad of thoughts pass through her mind, though not with Legilimency but the expressions on her face.

"Will I assure their safety?" he repeated as he leaned heavily against the wall. "No. I can make no such promises as the Dark Lord has given an order. It is not in my power to make such promises. But I will see to it that you obey me in all things."

He pushed away from the wall and walked to the bed, reaching out for the post and grasping it as he stood before her. "Now answer a question for me, girl." He reached down with his other hand, curling his fingers beneath her chin and lifting her face to him. "Tell me why you become complacent when I touch you. You wish to be here, don't you?" he asked softly, watching her intently as he waited on her answer.

Hermione did not have more than a few second's time to even think about his answer. _But you said.._ And then his hand was on her skin again. Softly- light and firm at the same time. Despite her condition, the potion coursing through her body and everything else considered, his touch still sent a flash through her. It was true, what he said. She did become complacent when he touched her. It wasn't even something she had to think about, it just happened, every single time without fail.

"I.. do not wish to be here, no." Her mind kept pulling towards the feel of him, the sound of his voice, and the first question he had asked of her. Why indeed did she fall at his touch? _You.._

"Your... When you touch me.." Though her stomach still felt as if it was at the back of her throat, she could not tear herself away from him. Had it always been this way? How would she have even known? He hadn't so much as brushed her shoulder with his in the past. And now...

"Because I enjoy it."

The words were almost choked out; her body trying so hard to contain the truth while her mind was obligated to obey and give an honest answer to his every question, no matter the price or end result. Her arms gave out and she leaned fully against the bed post and his hand, her right side coming to rest against his thigh.

He saw the disappointment on her face when he answered, and he moved his hand to grasp her face. "I cannot and will not speak for others," he answered firmly. Her next answer surprised him somewhat, but he kept tight control over his reaction.

"You enjoy it," he repeated, watching as she fell forward, her arms no longer supporting herself. He sneered as he pushed her from his thigh, and laid her on her back on the bed. "I told you earlier, Miss Granger. The touch of my hand need not always be painful," he told her in a soft voice. "It is not difficult to obtain; all you must do is submit yourself to me. You are far better off than many of your peers, but I'm sure you know that."

He trailed his fingers across her cheek, the tips of his fingertips barely touching her skin as he stopped upon reaching the hollow of her throat. "If you do this, you might find your situation to be far more tolerable. Of course we could return to the way we started. What say you, girl?" he asked as he brought his somewhat unfocused eyes to hers. He had a feeling that he knew the answer, but he would not take it for granted; he wanted to hear it come from her very lips.

Potion or not, she was now his and had been the moment he and Draco had caught her off-gaurd days ago. Poor Ginny. Malfoy would never treat her like this. Hermione ached for her friend constantly, even then, but her mind had no time nor present reason to linger on such useless thoughts as the situation her lost friend was in. It was out of her control, a point of no return had been crossed over and over again, and it sealed any chance she had of rescuing Ginny from whatever cruel and horrid treatment the boy had planned, or had already exacted upon her. A swift escape was utterly idiotic to even think about. She had tried, and she had failed. When would she learn...

"What.. are you asking, exactly?" Hermione Granger always found a way, whether she meant to or not, to be difficult with what ever obstacle stood in her way.

"Come now," he whispered. "I am asking if you will surrender this flight of fancy, the idea that you will escape and miraculously return to the Order which does not seek you. Think about it, girl." He raised one leg and kneeled on the bed, leaning toward her.

"You are fed, you are warm, you are safe. You have work to do," he motioned toward the potion table. "I could kill you, by rights of His order I should. Instead you are safe, even from other Death Eaters; in return you submit to me. Admit that you accept my control. Admit that you understand that you live because of me, and therefore are indebted to me. Admit that you want to be..."

He placed a hand on either side of her shoulders, his shoulder length hair hanging like curtains, falling to touch hers. "Say it. Tell me that you realize what I have said, and that you will cease your futile attempts. Tell me that you do not wish for me to continue to torture you, or to kill you... I ask you this as questions, not statements. Will you answer me?" he asked, playing on the effects of the potion.

"Yes, I will answer you." Hermione let her head fall to the side once he was finished speaking, the potion combined with the intoxicating effects of his touch and his voice was leaving her no room at all to react in any sort of proper manner. He was looming over her then, on the mattress, holding her down though even if she wanted to she could not get up.

With great effort, she turned to look back at him. His hair was brushing against her face, his eyes close enough to hers that her blurred vision was no match for his deep, coal-black orbs, and they shone eerily through the mist and fog that invaded her brain. Slowly, she lifted her right hand, then her arm up to his shoulder. The flat of her hand pressed lightly against him, then began to trail lazily down to his chest before falling back down, landing to rest naturally on her stomach. She would not remember doing this, let alone her reasoning behind it if there even was such a thing.

"Will I surrender this.. idea of escape, back to the Order..? I can't surrender an idea, but I can surrender attempts to.. to exact it." She swallowed, her eyes fluttering between opened and closed, not sure if she should be looking at him or not anymore. "Do I admit.. that I accept your control. Yes, I accept.." Hermione took a deep, shakey breath before she could continue.

"Yes, I admit that I understand... I live because of you. I am indebted to you." Another breath, hard swallow before letting her head fall to the side once more. "That I want to be? That I want... I don't want you to torture or kill me, no." She wasn't sure if she had managed to skirt the question, that she wanted to be... Be what? The answer that would fall from her mouth could possibly be her complete undoing, and it took a mountain of mental strain to keep from further answering the question. It was nearly- no, it was impossible to avoid. Hermione shut her eyes tight, gathering what mental strength she had left.

"Why are you so cold? Why do you obey what He tells you to do? You're better than that.. much better than that. So why..? And why me."

It pleased him greatly to hear her line out each individual requirement, and his breath hissed from him as she did so. Such control was heady, though there was a skepticism that would not go away. For now he could overlook it and instead revel in the moment, but then she asked questions of her own, and the drive to answer them was difficult to resist, and that was an incredible understatement. She wanted to know, he would tell her.

"Why am I cold?" he repeated as he lowered himself to a seated position on the bed. "I am a product of my history. Between family and so-called friends, there was no need to be anything but. Had I been, it may have been absolutely horrible, and I might not have lived to now."

Why do I obey him?" He opened his sleeve and bared the mark, black as night on his arm; the snake writhing upon his skin. "A promise. He offered me things that I wanted, and in exchange I obey him. Much like the Order did with the Headmaster."

He looked around the room, though he didn't center on any given object; just gazed. "I am much better for having done it, I have learned a great deal. As for why... Why you?" He looked to her as he touched his finger to her lips. He focused on the feel of them, rather than the pressing importance of fully answering her. "Because you were at the house when we arrived, therefore I have you. If that does not suit you, it can be changed..."

She listened to him intently, her glazed eyes spacing out within the sea of swirled blacks and greys reflecting back to her in his. When he moved, she felt her skin crawl, but not in a disgusted sort of way. More in a longing sort of chill running over her, down her arms and legs. Her face lazily followed his as he spoke; his sentences, like gifts graced amid engaging and watchful intent, captured her within a web-like spell from which escape would leave her hollow, her soul tattered and useless. His finger grazed smoothly over her lips, the action causing her eyes to finally flutter closed for what seemed for good that evening. _There's so much, just so much..._

Absently, the potion having full control over her body and mind now, she spoke to him. "I am sorry for your past, it seems to have been unfair for you." Pause to breathe, once.. twice. "I am sorry for your promise, it also seems to be unfair for you. So much in your life appears to be unfair." Break for air, a chance to calm her pulse and let her aching lungs relax from holding on to air or lack thereof for the majority of the past few minutes between the two. Her tongue slowly wet her aching lips, the tip trailing against the end of his finger though she in no way meant to do such a thing. But, it did not matter, nor did it seem to have phased her in the slightest.

"Simply.. because I was there. No other reason. I am naive, aren't I? But.. you say, if that does not suit me, it can be changed and I am not certain I understand what you are insinuating. So, what do you mean by that?"

Hermione chuckled lightly. "Funny how our 'one question each' has grown." She had not meant to say that out loud at all.

"I do not want your sympathy," he hissed. "Do not pity me, I have no need of it." He removed his finger from her lips after she had touched it; a simple gesture, not likely even noticed by her, yet it bothered him just a bit. For a moment he thought she was going to ask a different question, ask for the reasons- things he was not prepared to tell her.

"You are naive, yes," he answered, wondering whether she realized she had asked such a question. "What I meant is simple; if you are not pleased with your situation, I can arrange for others to keep you. I promise that they will not be kind, nor will you have the sort of potential safety that I am currently inclined to offer."

Her comment about the multiple questions had an awakening affect on him, and he realized what he was doing; leaning closely to his captive muggleborn former student. A Death Eater showing kindness- of sorts, and he retracted his hand completely. No one would deny him this, no one would question; his status as half-blood afforded him tolerances that might have been lacking in others. His position with the Dark Lord didn't hurt either. "You have never ceased at one question," he told her. "I would be amazed if you did."

"I know you have no need for my- or anyone else's pity. Still, it's always been there." Hermione turned her head to face him, her eyes completely glazed over though it seemed the simple action of attempting to look at him pleased her body, and she rested like that for a moment before words came effortlessly once again.

"No; no others. I understand the situation- how better off I am here than anywhere else, given the circumstances. However, I do think it's.. a bit sad, that you would relinquish me to another so easily. Is sad even the right word? Maybe, pathetic..."

And she was by no means attempting to insult or provoke him. Such a high amount of Veritaserum.. it seemed to cause her mind to open a floodgate of idle thoughts, and if she thought them, she said them. Somewhere inside the pit of her stomach, the absense of his touch hit, and without real thought or obvious movement to either parties, she had slowly moved her hand to rest against him with one finger hooked softly in the material of his clothes.

Before him, her hand resting against him, lay a relative innocent, willing it would seem to be touched by him. His voice, his touch- according to her, were things she craved. Under the influence of a particularly great amount of Veritaserum he knew her words to be truth; and due to the volume she had taken he knew that she was entirely pliant, suggestible. If he wanted, with a touch of his hand…

“Pathetic?” he scoffed. “Shall I form an attachment to someone who professed disgust at my very presence? What were the words? Ahh yes,” He looked directly at her as he recited her words exactly. “Filthy excuse for a man.”

He leaned over her once more, close enough to feel her breath brush his skin. “And yet you tell me that you enjoy my touch.” He brought his hand to her throat, caressing her skin lightly. “Tell me, what do you want from me, Miss Granger?”

Her eyes closed slowly as his luke-warm touch returned to her skin. Finally. But had it been so long since he had removed it? Not really. So why, then? And, why the longing? Why the adoration? This was the man that had murdered Dumbledore, that had in the end sided with Voldemort and then, had kidnapped her. He was cruel, far more than he ever had let on to be at Hogwarts, and they thought he was horrible then! But, it didn't seem to matter what her brain said, or what her heart felt. Her body ignored both. She didn't know why his touch effected her so, or his voice, but the fact remained that it did. And, under the effects of the strong Veritaserum, her subconscious had plucked the answer seemingly out of thin air.

She enjoyed it. It was terribly wrong, but there also was no denying it. She had jerked the potion back from him, in order to save her friend from Merlin knows what- if she was even still alive. But, in doing so, she had damned herself; the chains binding her to that room also became the chains that bound her to him.

Then he was so close to her, and she could feel his breath on her skin as well. Though they had shared a kiss or two, regardless of the circumstances surrounding them, she had never paused or thought back to even take in the feel of his breath against her skin. Her cloudy mind reeled for a moment, and she looked back up into his eyes. Not knowing what to do, if anything at all. So, she simply answered him, as her mind commanded that she do for any question he might pose to her that night.

"I want to be able to trust you, like I've always tried to. I want- what I want from you..." Hermione's thoughts were in a traffic jam of sorts. There was the painfully obvious pull; the complete need to answer him, but there was also a strong tug of regret, and fear in her answer and in giving it to him. Something a lot like self awareness reared it's head, yet at the same time blurred any control she had over her actions and reactions. In an inner fit of confusion and torn thoughts, she raised her chin and head up toward his and kissed him once again that night.

Part of him was surprised by her response, though he somewhat anticipated it. He brought his hand to twine in her hair, gripping it tightly as he kissed her in return. So tempting to take her; she was willing at the moment, and she would regret it greatly in the morning. Her potential discomfort and self loathing made the very idea even more delicious than it had been previously. He could do this for so very many selfish reasons… Of course her innocence would be gone, and with it her potential usefulness- or at least in her mind. That idea alone very nearly drew a moan from him, but he controlled it; the thought of her devastation in the morning was tantalizing, but not yet. It wasn’t time; she needed to be desirous without the help of potions.

“This must stop, girl. Now is not the time,” he growled as he pulled her away from him, lowering her head to the bed as he licked his lips. “Soon perhaps, but not tonight.” He released her hair and pushed himself up to balance on his knees, sliding into a sitting position as he prepared to slip from the bed.

“Tomorrow, we shall begin again.”

Hermione let him lay her down, her hand still against him with her finger curled in a bit of his coat. The material felt a bit rough, but when she pressed it between her thumb and finger, she found that it felt quite smooth, almost a worn-in sort of texture.

‘Soon perhaps, but not tonight.’ For some reason, her stomach dropped from her throat and back into it's normal spot. Suddenly, all the nervous energy that had been riddling her muscles and thoughts disolved. She relaxed back into the mattress and let her mind unwind. It would be alright- everything would be okay, it would all work out. Some how. Wouldn't it?

"What will we begin again?" Her question was almost a whisper, and if he answered her, she would not completely take in what he would say. But, he was there, and she could feel his semi-warmth, and the cloth between her fingers. Part of her wanted to snap back, to open her eyes and pursue what ever it was she had been trying to achieve with him that night, but her mind was utterly exhausted. Somewhere between wishing she had smashed the bottle of Veritaserum when she took it back from him, forced the kiss more, and planning her next great escape attempt, Hermione fell asleep.

When she fell back, completely at rest he slipped from the bed, a triumphant look on his face. ‘She handed me weapons,' he thought, inordinately pleased with what he had learned. Whether she would admit to it again when she was back to herself was another matter entirely, but for now he was satisfied with what he knew.

He walked from the room, glancing back before slipping through the door. Again the house elf was waiting, and once again he issued the same order as before. "Tend to her," he told the tiny creature before he swept past it, heading directly to his room. He didn't want to encounter another living soul until morning, and he refreshed all wards to ensure such a thing. Tomorrow would begin a new day, and he would be prepared. The question would be, would she?


	6. Six

Morning did not bring a large amount of sunshine to awake her through the tiny window, rather a gloomy and cloudy day loomed outside. She woke up slowly, letting her eyes adjust to the soft, gray light in the room before shifting and sitting up. Her head throbbed greatly, and she sat for a few minutes with her head in her hand. What had happened? Hermione looked down at herself to see that she was still wearing the nice, off-white dress that Snape had given her. All things considered, it was still a very pretty dress. The girl in her couldn't help but feel a hint of happiness that she still had it on.

She turned, letting her legs hang off the edge of the mattress, finally bringing her hands down from her head to her lap. She remembered making the Veritaserum, giving it to Snape, then taking it back and drinking it herself. She also remembered finally managing to get a bit of it in him, and then her memories of the night got a little fuzzy. Questions were asked, and answers given, from both parties. Hermione sat there, perfectly still, as she silently let the cloudy memories slowly return to her one by one.

Morning came, and he felt far better than he did when he had slipped into bed earlier. By the time he had reached his room a headache was in full force, though he decided against taking any potions for it; fortunately it was not long after he relaxed that he had fallen asleep.

After his morning routine, he summoned the elf to give its days assignments, including breakfast for himself and the care of his 'guest.' There were still things he needed to accomplish, correspondence and meetings. It would be early afternoon before he would check in on the girl. Surely she could entertain herself until then.

Hermione had paced the room, eventually, after remembering an answer she had given him the previous night. 'I enjoy it.' She shook her head and kicked the mattress in frustration, a low growl escaping her throat. How could she have been so stupid? It wasn't enough that she was naive, oh no, now she had to be stupid on top of that. _How can I ruin his plans... How dare he!_

She considered many things, one of which was to just break herself, making her 'current state' useless to him, but then what card would she hold? She could always pretend to still be 'useful', but once the potion, or potions failed to work, he would know. Possibly before then. The elf popped in, with food and a water basin and wash cloth. Hermione took the items and set them on the floor. As soon as she looked back up, he was gone. She plopped back down on the edge of the mattress with a heavy sigh.

She really didn't remember much after falling back onto the make-shift bed the previous night, though there was the memory of how the material of his clothes felt between her fingers. And, the feel of his breath on her skin. She huffed and put her face in her hands once more, this time a bright and completely wrong blush crossed her hidden features. He refused to assure her of her friend's safety. Was it all for nothing?

Her hand slowly reached under the mattress, bringing out the papers, photo and two old bottles she had stored the previous day. After a few minutes of reading over the old papers, she turned and eyed the table she had worked at the previous night. It was worth a shot. Definitely.

With slightly renewed hope, Hermione returned to the table and began working on one of the potions that was detailed on the old papers. She used one of the old bottles, one that Snape hadn’t put a protective charm on, for the finished product. Once she had finished completely, she calmly sat back down on the mattress, storing the papers, photo and the other bottle back under the mattress, her latest creation held tightly in her right hand which she held in her lap with the left folded neatly over it. The long sleeves of the dress only aided her in hiding the small bottle further as she waited for his return.

He returned at roughly the time he thought he might, and relaxed for a time before going downstairs to check on his guest. The elf gave him a full report of the day’s activities; nothing amiss thus far. Apparently she had entertained herself making potions, just as he thought she might.

With a deep breath and a heavy scowl he lifted himself from his comfortable chair and made his way downstairs. He didn't say a word as he opened the door, walking directly to the table though he cast a dark look in her direction. He glanced over the table before turning to face her, placing his hands on the table on either side of him.

"What have you created today, Miss Granger? Do not lie, I shall know," he cautioned.

Her stomach churned as he entered the room. She watched him closely through a curtain of wavy hair, her face turned sideways so that she was looking more toward the window than the table. She swallowed and, without turning or moving an inch, began to speak in a flat and calm voice.

"One part half-ground asphodel root, two parts boiled water with powdered belladonna veins. Stir for twenty-eight minutes counter clockwise, then four stirs clockwise. Add patchouli oil per volume, usually half part to the amount of belladonna."

Hermione paused, watching his expression. She had drawn her legs up underneath her and began to crawl backward across the mattress, away from him. Her gaze now straight on with his.

"Pinch of scurvy-grass, to aid the mental pain once the potion is taken. Oh, but now I'm getting out of order. You'll have to forgive me; today was the first time I've made this, let alone read the instructions for it."

She had the small bottle ready now, her thumb at the cork ready to pop it open instantly. If she knew Snape like she thought she did, he would realize what she had made, and thus realize that she held a make-shift replacement potion for aconite- or monkshood oil. She was now on the other side of the mattress entirely.

"You assure me their safety. You do it! Give me your word!" Hermione popped the cork off and raised the bottle to her lips. Not only could she drink it, but she could also get it on him. She knew he had an open wound or two, and that's all it would take. If he dared make a move to just vanish it away from her, she would tip it.

His expression changed from mildly disinterested to thoroughly shocked and angry as the implications set in, and he cast a swift look to the wall where, in his youth, he had hidden the very instructions she referred to. He knew what she possessed, and he paled.

"If you wish to drink it, by all means do so," he snarled, slowly reaching for his wand. "I can make no such promises! If it comes to my life or theirs, why should I risk mine? They would end it for me swiftly, girl, why should I be a fool?"

"STOP reaching for your wand!" Hermione snapped, as she saw his slow motion and had jerked the bottle, almost emptying it over her lips. "You stay away from them! You keep your people away! I promised to do anything you asked, but in return you said you would leave them alone!" Her hand shook dangerously as she shouted at him in a trembling voice. "I'll do anything, you just keep them away, you hear?! You just let my friends be!"

He sneered as he crossed his arms, watching her taunt him with her imminent death. "Do it. Do it you foolish girl, and be done with it. Spare me the need to do it," he hissed. Had she been serious, he would have found her dead- or she would have done it already. He leaned against the table and watched her as she held the bottle just a short distance from her lips- stopping herself when she thought she was about to spill it.

"You must learn to look at what is said, girl- as well as what is not said. I said I could not ensure their safety, nor could I countermand the Dark Lord's order. If you expect me to fight him to put an end to his order, you are delusional. If you expect me to prevent every other Death Eater from doing their job, you are insane," he told her impassively. He waited, watching her reactions to his words. "Is that what you want to hear? Or would you care to adjust your request?"

She gritted her teeth, eyes flashing violently in desperation. "They are just trying to survive." Her words were pointed and venomous. "They won't bother you, so don't bother them. Harry's gone, so what does it matter?! Just let them remain hidden! I know you're at the head of continuing all of Voldemort's orders now, so you can too do something about it!"

Hermione’s eyes flashed to his neck, and though she figured the skin was not broken anymore, it would be once the glass bottle shattered against it. She grasped the bottle firmly and threw it straight at his neck.

He dodged the bottle and it crashed upon the wall behind him, spraying potion and small shards of glass too close for his comfort. She clearly had no idea what she was toying with; this infuriated him beyond reason.

He rushed forward and grabbed her hands and pulled her from the bed, slamming her back against the wall. "Everyone is trying to survive!" he snarled as he shoved her against the wall roughly. "They matter a great deal to the Dark Lord. Do you understand, to leave them alone is to allow a resistance to grow; to allow such a thing is to be a traitor!?" He pushed her again violently, "I am not a traitor!" He threw her roughly into the corner as he stepped back, his face pale with rage. "Do you have any idea what you brewed? DO YOU??"

Hermione had shied away but he had caught her. She cried out as he threw her against the wall, her eyes now closed tightly to both him and the pain. She was beside herself, both because of him and what she had done and said the previous night. Did she really not have a hope at all? Was this really all there was left for her?

After being thrown into the corner, she looked up at him with rage and fear. It was all completely pointless, then, if he couldn't offer her anything in return. She eyed the soaked wall to her right, and the shards of glass.

"You are the biggest traitor anyone has ever known! How can you stand there and deny it!? I promised you my services, but in return my friends were to remain hidden and safe!"

She lunged to her side, swiping her bare hand through the small puddle that had formed on the floor from the potion running down the wall, her other hand grabbing a piece of broken glass. She then leapt to her feet and jumped him, intent on cutting then slapping his face with her soaked hand.

He had his wand in hand and cast Incarcerous and levitated her before she could injure him.

"Idiot girl, you have no idea the things you say! Do you not think?" he growled as he paced around her, predatory and angry. "Do you think I could actively countermand His direct order?" A flick of his wand and the potion mess was gone, glass included. "You ask me to leave your friends in peace, to avoid looking for them, to leave them to their own devices. To stop all searches for them- this is not possible," he snarled, coming to stop in front of her. "Do you think they would do the same for me? If it were discovered that I did this favor for you, what do you think would happen? Besides, you should use your vaunted intelligence, girl."

He grasped the ropes and pulled her to him, his wand to her throat. "I spend my free time here with you, when do you think I have had the time to hunt them? Why should I spare them if they would not spare me?" He released her from the levitation and threw her onto the bed, still tied. "I grow weary of this, day after day." He snapped his fingers and the elf appeared; with a sharp order he left, removing the potions table with him. The room was as bare as it was before. He took the opportunity to walk around the walls, finding the spot in the wall left so very many years ago. "Did you enjoy going through my personal things?" he asked as he turned to her.

She struggled against the ropes, even though she knew it was no good. His words reached her, but she refused to show she was listening and avoided his eyes entirely. She let out a growl, clearly frustrated beyond all hope. She ignored his question about going through his personal things.

"What am I supposed to do, then?! You tell me! Forget my friends? Not care?" Hermione growled low in her throat once more, still struggling pointlessly against the magical ropes. "If I told them to leave off, they would! Why is hunting them, and killing them, the only solution for you?!" At least, Hermione thought, he hasn't touched me today.

"Are you honestly naive enough to believe such a thing?" he shouted, his face reddening as his anger grew. "Do you think for a moment that they would not kill me based on your word alone? When they see your back, will they be merciful?"

He growled as he paced the wall. "I'll not have this discussion, you know better. Use that brain of yours, girl." He walked over to her and grabbed the ropes, bringing her face to face with him. "I am a walking dead man if they come, and your word will do nothing. If I tell the Death Eaters not to hunt them, my loyalty is in question and I am as good as deceased. Can you not see this?"

He dropped her unceremoniously as he took several steps back. "There are things that are required, girl. It is best that you learn the difference between wishing for truth and knowing the truth, dire as it may be."

Hermione watched him move, her eyes flitting from his lips to his eyes, every once in a while down to his hands and those slender fingers that worked so delicately at tasks in front of him. It was just unfair all around. For her, her friends, Ginny, and even for Snape.

After a few moments of silence while she gathered her thoughts and calmed herself down, she moved to be on her side against the wall the mattress was pressed up against. She hoped he wouldn't go looking for the rest of the things she still had stored from the nook in the wall. And again, each time he came near her, or grabbed her, he was only making contact with the ropes and not her skin. This made it much easier for her to maintain a sound and untainted mind.

"So, are you telling me that nothing I could do will help them? That all I can do, is live out what ever pointless life I have left down here, doing your bidding?" Her words were pointed, but with more pain than hatred. _So my only hope really is to escape... back to Plan B._

He growled as he stopped his pacing, looking toward her with an almost unreadable expression. "I am telling you that nothing can be done. I will not risk death for those who would not do the same for me."

He drew himself up, crossing his arms as he looked down on her, curled in the corner. "Will you cry now, Miss Granger? Have you come to the conclusion that you have made an irrevocable mistake? An error in judgement?"

He approached her, but did not make any attempt to touch her, watching her for unexpected movements. How she could do it was something of a mystery, as she was tied; it was not in his nature to assume it could not happen. The girl had proven herself to be rather resourceful, after all.

"You will at do as you said, live out your life serving me, or you may die here and now. I leave that decision entirely to you," he told her as he moved to draw his wand, tapping it almost impatiently.

"No," she spat, "I won't cry." She tried to sit straight against the wall, though her bindings were painfully tight she managed to wiggle herself up against the wall with her lower half extended out on the mattress she had been thrown on to. Hermione lowered her head, hiding her features behind curtains of wavy and unkempt hair.

She answered him, but it was a rough and low whisper. Her eyes stared forward at his feet, steadying herself for whatever would come next- be it an action he took or one of her own. The next few silent seconds were the worst so far.

"And yet you failed to answer my other question, Miss Granger," he said softly as he walked to the edge of the bed, though he did not approach closely enough to be kicked. "If you consider that mumble to be a sufficient answer, I will tell you that it is disregarded. If you do not speak plainly then I shall be forced to take your answer as no. Therefore, I ask you once more to answer the question. It is a simple one, is it truly so difficult to answer?"

He raised his chin to look down upon her, a smug sneer firmly in place as he began tapping his palm with his wand. "You have never hesitated to open your mouth before, girl. Will you be silent now?"

Still hidden behind her hair, Hermione answered him with a rough and scratchy throat. "You only asked one question, to be exact," she choked out. "And I don't remember being given any form of truth serum, so why should I answer, even if you had asked a second question?"

Please, she thought, please don't come closer. The events of the previous night were still weighing heavy on her mind, almost to the point of completely governing her responses, actions and thoughts. Her desires were so messed; a tangled pile of confusion and hatred. ‘Tell me why you become complacent when I touch you. You wish to be here, don't you?’ ‘I enjoy it.’

Her eyes shut tight, as if trying to block the foggy memory from her mind entirely. Was it true? _Will you ever stop being so naive?_ She slowly stopped struggling against the ropes, and opened her eyes to again stare down at nothing but his shoes.

"Are you familiar with the concept of an implied question, Miss Granger?" he snarled, watching her intently. Her discomfort was quite delicious, and with a flick of his wand he brought her to her feet, still fastened securely. He moved her away from the bed, and set her to stand where he could walk around her.

"Of course not, you never asked a question that was not direct. However, since you did not divine the question on your own, I shall ask you plainly."

He stepped behind her and put his hands on her upper arms, pulling her to him gently. "Will you accept your situation, live here and serve me?" he asked softly, letting his breath caress her ear as he spoke.

"Will you choose to live?" He brought his hand around her to graze her throat with his wand, "Or would you prefer to end it now?" He pressed a soft kiss to the outer edge of her ear as he whispered, "If I were to have another occupation, I might not have the time to hunt your friends- and I do not mean lewd behavior."

Of course. Of course he had to go and do the one thing she was praying to the gods he wouldn't do anymore. Not after the previous night, especially. Snape pulled her to him, teasing her mind and senses with his words, though it was his voice and that smooth calculating touch that always seemed to be the last straw in breaking her will-power.

His breath danced dangerously over her skin, sending a few uncontrollable shivers through her body. He noticed them before, no doubt he would notice them then as well. There wasn't much point in refusal; in hiding that which he already knew. Pointless. Hopeless. Futile. Useless. Oh, but gods how she hated this. Every step he took against her was painful. He was so far above her now, he had her completely under him and his will.

Comply, for now, Hermione thought to herself. She had closed her eyes once again, and gritted her teeth as he spoke against her ear. The kiss he graced her with caused a completely involuntary groan to creep up and out her mouth, and she quickly worked to mask it by clearing her throat- or trying to at least.

"Yes," was the only answer she managed to force out.

His oddly gentle touch, so out of place against her neck, sent another wave through her body. Hermione kept her eyes tightly shut, even as he tilted her head back and continued to let his breath and words tease across her skin. _The pain might ease, if I could only learn to-_ She gritted her teeth again, though this time it was not just due to his words and his touch, but to her own thoughts. The way she had to rationalize her own reactions was absurd, in her mind.

Never the less, as much as she may have wanted to say no, to say she'd rather die, Hermione could never just give up on life. It wasn't in her nature to do such a thing. Even in the face of that man and living underneath him forever, she could not find the ability to give up. Her only goal the past few years had been to just 'be', to survive and hopefully together with her friends make a comeback, and she wasn't about to let that slide because of _him_.  
  
"I accept- Yes, I choose...” She swallowed hard, still refusing to open her eyes as if she was afraid of seeing herself bent and yielding underneath him. Her throat strained under the suppression of yet another moan. Even through the magical ropes, the feel of her entire back side against him warmed her.  
  
Hermione could not answer his last- could not tell him what it was she wanted. She herself was unsure of the answer at that point. It was torture, to say the least, and the truth she had offered him the previous night was of no help.

With a flick of his wand the ropes vanished, and he pulled her to him tightly. "Very good," he virtually whispered as he turned her face slightly, speaking against her cheek by the corner of her mouth. "Use that intellect, girl. Live."

He turned her toward the bed and released her, taking a step back to put space between them. "Should you behave yourself, I may allow you to take dinner upstairs. Do not hold the mistaken impression that you would be able to escape; the house is warded against it."

He slipped his wand into his sleeve as he watched her carefully, reading her actions. "Your fate is entirely within your own hands. I shall allow you a certain amount of leeway- dependent upon the trust you build. At the moment you have little; normally I am not generous enough to offer second chances, but we shall see."

Hermione opened her eyes as the ropes vanished and she was once again pulled to his body. The moment was fleeting at the least, but for a second she let herself sink back into his grasp, her body willingly leaning into his.  
  
When he turned her and let go, she took a step forward then turned sideways to look back at him, the back of her legs against the mattress on the floor. He always put a safe distance between them when she was unrestrained, which was smart she supposed, but it also made her think. She would question him actually not underestimating her, question why it was she would miss the feel of him, and why her mind would linger on the feeling of his breath against her cheek as he spoke.  
  
 _‘Should you behave yourself, I may allow you to take dinner upstairs.’_  
  
His words sent her calculations reeling. Would he actually let her out of that room? Her eyes glanced his sleeve, where he had stored away his wand.  
  
"That's a tad hypocritical, seeing as you were given more than a second chance yourself." And oh what a mistake it had been.

He remained silent for a long moment, just watching her face (and her quick glance at his sleeve) before his lips curled into his ever present sneer.

"I do not see how, as I am offering you another second chance, as it were. Consider how many times you have attacked me- as recently as it was. Yet here I am, offering some modicum of freedom within the house."   
  
He tilted his head as he thought, raising a hand to tap his lips. "Oddly enough, I find that I have not yet offered you such a chance; truly, this is but your first opportunity, is it not?"  
  
He dropped his hand once more as he folded his arms across his chest, the sneer falling away just as quickly. "I could not possibly care less what your thoughts might be on my so-called chances. Once again I remind you that those who mattered knew. It was enough."

She sat back onto the bed, smoothing the off-white dress he had put on her a day ago over her thighs as she made an obvious point to look away from his sleeve. Instead, she eyed the section of wall she had found the bottles, potion instructions, and photo behind. He knew now that she had found it, and that she had found what it had kept hidden.

Her mind returned to the other papers she had hidden under the mattress, which contained three very useful potion instructions (one of which she had used that very hour on yet another attack on him, and attempt to get away). Then the image of the photo floated through her mind. The photo of him, not even her age yet and looking so unsure and uncomfortable with the world around him. This too she had hidden under the mattress, and the second unused bottle wedged behind the mattress between it and the wall.  
  
Hermione blinked away the image and turned her gaze up to him. Not his shoes, or his sleeve, but to his dark eyes. She rarely had the inner strength to do it, but when she did, it felt almost monumental in how completely his deep orbs shook her. She finally felt a blush, in late response to having let an audible moan escape her throat under his touch. However, he had not acknowledged it in the least. Perhaps, he had not noticed. She could hope...  
  
"What now, then? You aren't going to trust me with making potions anymore, are you?"

He held her gaze directly; if she had the nerve to look directly, he'd play her game. His desire to take her innocence flared once more as a faint blush colored her cheeks, though he remained stoic. Perhaps it was visible in his eyes, perhaps not; by now he did not care, not after what she had revealed under the truth serum- though he had no intention of allowing her to use it over him.  
  
"Not without my direct supervision," he answered her in a no-nonsense manner. "Would you allow me the same had the roles been reversed? Would it be deserved?"  
  
Another pause, allowing her to consider his question in silence. "How grand a fool you must think I am," he said very softly, very seriously.

Hermione continued to look him straight in the eye, refusing to move an inch, even so much as blink. Her mind did not feel strained, so she let it return to its previous thoughts. Thoughts about the items she had hidden away, about how his eyes captured her every time, and about how he was quite obviously toying with her feelings. She had said it, and he remembered of course. No point in denial, she told herself a second time. So why? Why continue the facade?  
  
The rose-coloration across her face deepened as they continued to stare into each other’s eyes.  
  
"I never...considered you to be a fool. However, you- I-" She paused, tilting her head slightly to the side as she thought her words over carefully. A wavy strand of hair or two fell from her cheek, the cut he had given her in turn for the one she had given him was still visible though he had healed it for her. As were the scars that spanned her entire back, spelling out his name in her skin. She hadn't forgotten about it. About how he had marked her as his, and told her so many times since. Belonging to him, to Severus Snape...  
  
She closed her mouth, and without breaking eye contact softly folded her hands in her lap and took a somewhat trembling, deep breath. She had said more than enough in the past twenty-four hours, as far as she was concerned.

He waited in vain for her to continue, yet she said nothing; opting for the demure behavior she was now exhibiting. "What is it, girl?" he asked curtly, dropping his hands to his side. "You have never held your tongue before; yet when you have my attention you wish to speak in partial sentences."  
  
Odd that she would not continue; likely he would perform Legilimency before the night was out, searching for knowledge she seemed reluctant at best to share.

"Very well," he sighed as he snapped his fingers, summoning the elf. "I shall arrange for more clothing for you, and a proper bath. If all goes well- and uneventfully, you shall come from this room for a time. If there is nothing further, I shall take my leave..."

“I..!" She seemed almost desperate, but for what? Her feet returned to the cold floor as she had tipped herself off of the mattress and approached him. Her left hand reached out and grasped the cuff of his sleeve, the one he had put his wand in, yet she was not fumbling for it or trying to steal it away. Her eyes continued to stare up into his, even in such proximity. She could now feel the heat in her cheeks, which had begun to spread through her once she had approached him and grabbed for his arm.  
  
"I like this dress. And, a bath would be nice, but I..."  
  
 _What are you doing? Talking to him about clothes and what you'd like? Do you even know what you feel anymore? I don't think you do, Hermione Jean Granger. You want to know what I think? I think you are in complete denial. And he, that man you're clinging to? He knows it all too well. You've lost. Naive, hopeless, out of options..._  
  
"Don’t leave," she said, the words rushed together and a bit mumbled through her breathy voice.  
  
As the trend seemed to be ever since he had captured her, she was once again unclear about her own feelings. But, what seemed to bother her the most was his absence; when he would leave her alone for long periods of time. Hermione kept telling herself it was because of her friends that she did not want him to leave. If he was not with her, he could be out hunting them down or instructing others to do the work for him. That, at least, was her sad way of explaining the almost primal urge she felt to try and keep him around her. A bath did sound nice though, as did being taken out of that small and depressing room. She simply continued to cling to his sleeve, her baited anticipation reflected in her eyes as she held her gaze with his.

“Speak up girl, I cannot hear your mutterings," he said as he raised his arm, removing her hand from his wand arm, though he did not release it. He heard her, but he wanted her to say it more clearly; less like a secret and more like a desire.   
  
"Do you not wish to bathe?" he asked as he turned her hand over and opened it, palm upwards. "You touched the potion. Had you been injured in any way, you would be in great pain right now." He brought his eyes from hers to her hand where he was tracing a small pattern into the palm with his fingertip.

"However, you are fortunate that your skin was unblemished." He stopped drawing on her palm and moved his hand slowly across her forearm, pushing the sleeve of her dress back as he did so. "And you like this dress, but you would not care for a new one?"   
  
He brought his eyes to hers once more, searching for a reaction as he reached her elbow, carefully scraping his fingernails across her skin as he drew his hand back to her wrist. "Tell me again what you said," he encouraged softly. "Tell me what it is you wish."

Hermione tried so very hard to keep her eyes on his. She let him turn over her hand, then as if some divine presence heard her inner pleads, he looked away and down to her palm. She took the chance and closed her own eyes, attempting to calm her insides down by long, drawn-out breaths. His touch, as usual, was like a fast-acting and strong poison. It seized up her muscles, froze her mind, and caused her breathing to hitch slightly.  
  
 _‘And you like this dress, but you would not care for a new one?’_  
  
She opened her eyes to stare back into his, an answer attempting to form itself but her throat did not seem to want to work properly. She tried once to answer, but had to blink and clear her throat softly. But by then, he had a new request.  
  
 _‘Tell me again what you said. Tell me what it is you wish.’_  
  
"Don't...leave," Hermione managed, her eyes now glazed as if she was in a trance. She swallowed and repeated herself clearly. "Don't leave."

He could hear her breaths, it was clear in her eyes- and by the way that her coherence seemed to falter in the face of his touch.

"Don't leave?" he repeated as he released her hand and reached for her waist, curling his fingers and holding her firmly in place without pulling her to him.  
  
"I must step away at some point. I cannot stay indefinitely, surely you know this." Her compliance was inviting to say the least- like young prey to a predator.

"And if I stay? Then what?" he asked softly, lifting her other hand in his free hand and examining it as well. "Why would you want me to stay?"

"I..."  
  
She attempted to swallow once more, but her mouth was too dry. No more rationalizations. No more excuses; it wouldn't help her anyways. How can you lie to yourself for days on end? For Hermione, it just wasn't possible.  
  
Without him pulling, she took the step forward on her own. He knew she enjoyed the feel of it, of being against him, so really the only person she had been trying to convince otherwise was herself.  
  
And she let that be her answer, as at that point any hope of forming words was quite beyond her. The air didn't seem to reach her skin, and any breaths she did take seemed labored under her nervousness, or almost pointless altogether. The hand he had previously been holding reached up to rest on his waist in return, though she quickly second guessed the action and tentatively removed it.

At least one barrier was broken- she had reached for him, actually touched him of her own accord. Gently. It was as he had told her, in time she would grow to want his company- and she had confessed as much.  
  
"Well then, I suggest this for you." He pulled her to him very tightly, leaning forward to speak into her ear. "Take a bath, take your time with it. Don the new dress that I shall provide you, and you will be escorted to dine with me- provided you don't make another assassination attempt."

He released her other hand and stroked her hair before taking a handful of it and pulling her head back to look at her. "In the event of such a thing you shall never leave this room again, nor will I enter it."   
  
He released his grip on her hair and caressed her cheek before gracing her with the tiniest of smiles. "I shall be upstairs, and I will send the elf to assist you. If I do not have your presence in the dining room within two hours, I shall have my answer, will I not?" He placed a soft kiss on her shoulder before pulling away, heading to the door.   
  
"I expect I shall see you." With a nod he was through the door, confident that he would see her again before the night was through.


	7. Seven

Hermione stood frozen until he had left the room completely and a quivering house elf had started to tug at the hem of her dress.  
  
"O-oh...sorry," she apologized to the thin creature as her mind quickly rushed back. She looked behind her on the mattress, where the elf had laid a lovely black dress. Hermione had never been one for the color herself, but he had chosen it for her apparently, and she would oblige.  
  
As she ran her fingers over the material, the elf scurried to the other side of the room and snapped it’s bony fingers. A sad little door surfaced in the weathered wall, no taller than she was. The elf tapped the doorknob, and it opened slowly to reveal a small though quite clean wash room. She nodded a thanks to the elf and entered, taking her time just as Snape had instructed her to.  
  
After investigating the room closely, and finding nothing which she could use to her advantage, she dried off and attempted to towel-dry her hair. It was no use, but thankfully the nervous elf offered his services and with another snap, her hair was dry and tucked up into a loose bun with wavy ringlets falling about her neck. Hermione again thanked the elf, this time attempting to ask what his name was. His answer was too low and mumbled, so she just smiled weakly and thanked him a second time. He motioned toward the dress, which was still laying neatly on the end of the mattress.  
  
She returned to examine it, and again she blushed. _Did he personally pick this out for me?_ Once she had put it on, she entered the wash room to see how she looked in the small oval mirror that hung on the back of the door.  
  
It was a simple dress, but the overall effect it had was elegant. The material was sleek, but not cold and slippery like silk, leaving her wondering just what it was. It was strapless, in a sense. The back fell away almost down to the small of her back, with the front only dipping just enough to reveal her collar bone, and the 'straps' coming to tie behind her neck. The material, like the off-white dress she had previously been wearing, gathered underneath her breasts tastefully and fell from there to just above her knees.  
  
Hermione gave herself a small pep talk of sorts before leaving the wash room and approaching the elf. "I suppose I'm ready," she said, unsure of what she was to do next. The elf rung his tiny hands, switching from foot to foot in nervousness.  
  
 _"Master has... Master requires that I- that you be restrained, miss. I don't mean to upset, but if miss is wanting- if you is meaning to join Master for dinner, then I must-"_  
  
She put her hands up to silence him and his nervous, twitchy rambling. "I understand, that is fine," she breathed, and held out her hands for him. He flinched, then after a cautious glance at her face, snapped his fingers over her wrists. A silver, pulsating strand of light wound itself around them and trailed out in front of her towards the elf, though the end did not reach to his hand but instead seemed to be held in mid-air above him. The restraints were firm, but not uncomfortable, and seemed to be made of some sort of suspended liquid, cool to the touch. _"This way, miss..."_  
  
Hermione followed the elf up through the lower part of the house, taking in anything she could before eventually being led into a dining room. The low lighting gave the entire setting an onimous appearance, but it suited the situation. And _him_. Her eyes instantly fell on his form, calmly seated and waiting for her. The knot returned to her stomach, and she vaguely wondered if she would actually be eating that night.  
  
The elf looked between her and him, edging his way closer to the table with her restraints still in place. _"Is this good, Master?"_

He sat in the dimly lit room, one arm laying casually on the arm of the chair as he leaned slightly on the other, his hand tracing his thin lips; his legs stretched and crossed. He had done the same as he had demanded of her, though taking far less time. As a result he was more casually dressed in actual wizarding robes of the deepest green, sparsely decorated and fairly loose. No cloak adorned his shoulders, no fancy brooches, and amazingly enough, no symbols of Slytherin anywhere to be found upon them.   
  
He raised his eyes to watch as she entered the room, restrained as he had ordered. The dress was flattering to her, and for the first time in many years (that he could recall) her hair was restrained and elegant. When the elf spoke he hesitated a moment before raising his face and waving the creature off.

"Begin when it is ready," he told the elf as he stood from his chair, walking slowly to her and accepting the end of the thin binding cord. "This dress suits you," he said as he pulled on the cord with a snap, causing them to vanish. "Surely you understand the reason for those, and I need not explain it to you." He motioned to her to take a seat, waiting for her to move before he took his. The table was not overly long, a relatively ordinary table in a room that was far from palatial.   
  
"If all goes well this evening, you may find your room a bit more comfortable when you return to it," he said as he watched her carefully. "Meaning, if you do not try to kill me, you may find yourself better off. I hope that is clear."

“It is clear, yes," she said, swallowing finally and taking a deep breath that felt like she had been holding it in her chest for hours. Once the almost pleasant restraints were removed, she rubbed both wrists but to her surprise there was no soreness at all. Hermione stiffened up a bit and then looked up into Snape’s dark eyes.

She listened intently, never taking her eyes off of his as he spoke. She neatly folded her hands together in front of her and waited politely. When he motioned for her to sit, she did so in proper form. Two deep, calming inhales before she lifted her face to meet with his again. Her hands were still folded neatly in her lap.

  
"You said this dress suits me. Am I to assume that you, personally, picked it out for me?" Her head tilted slightly as she spoke, causing a few of those wavy ringlets to fall ever so lightly against her cheek. She had many more questions, but it would be prudent to start splattering them about the dinner table. She would gauge the answers she received, then after re-calculating her other questions, she would ask another. She told herself she would remain calm, and try to keep the dinner on an almost professional level. She was too confused with her own desires, fears, and feelings to do anything else but ask her questions so that she may assess the situation better.  
  
Her right hand rose from her lap, and had started to trace faint trails in the wood grain of the table as she silently awaited his answer. Was she really doing this? Having a somewhat formal dinner with her former Potions Master? A Death Eater? A traitor? She closed her eyes, masking the break in eye contact with a play of having to yawn though she was far from tired or in need of a yawn.  
  
 _He is also much, much more than that, to you. Sometimes I worry about you, Hermione. Is Veritaserum the only thing that can make you believe your own truths? Maybe something more drastic is in order... You sure are one stubborn, naive little girl._  
  
She simply bit back the rest of the questions she had, pushing her horrid inner voice back as well, and quiet and determined, waited for his answer.

He eyed her suspiciously, drawing his fingers across his bottom lip as he listened to her, taking note of her demeanor as she asked her questions- few as they were, and it seemed rather odd for her to be so relatively silent.

“If I say yes, you might think me soft; yet if I say no, you may be relieved- or saddened, or indifferent. What I will ask is this; can you imagine me in a shop purchasing a ladies dress?”  
  
Another moment and the drinks were served, appearing on the table without the presence of visible elves; how much he enjoyed being a wizard versus the bland and tedious muggle life he knew as a child. It was apparently one thing this man may have had in common with this girl- though surely her parents were far more affectionate and demonstrative than his; at least as far as father figures went. Mother could not…  
  
He brought himself from his silent reverie to watch her tracing patterns in the table, wondering at her masked innocence. “I will also tell you that I expect no dishes to be thrown against the wall, nor do I expect food to be wasted. Therefore, if you will refuse to eat say so now, and I shall release you to the comfort of your own room.”

“No, I can't," she mumbled in response to his answer. Of course he wouldn't have gone and picked it out in person. Still, the thought that he _had_ , had caused her to feel a bit enamored. That such a man would have imagined her in that dress, furthermore purchased it specifically for her...

Hermione cast her eyes up into his once the drinks were served and he began to speak again. She was, after all, quite hungry and actually had not intended on throwing dishes against the wall.  
  
She nodded and reached for her glass, hesitating before taking a drink. Shyly, she looked over the end of her glass back at him, but the sour liquid caused her to scrunch her nose slightly and lower the glass from her lips. She recovered quickly with a swift swallow and clearing of her throat.  
  
"What are we having?"  
  


He was amused by her reaction to the wine, though the only revelation was the slight quirk at the corner of his mouth. He was not given to revealing such things so easily; instead he dropped his hand to lift his glass, taking a drink as he watched her intently. It seemed to keep her off balance, and he liked that.  
  
"Something formal, I suspect. The silly creature was quite pleased with his assignment for the evening," he told her as he placed his glass on the table, long fingers still lightly holding the stem of the glass. "Perhaps he divined something from you, as he did not obtain instructions from me." He lifted his glass once more, speaking softly as he did.

"Indulge my curiosity; what do you desire to have?" he asked as the glass touched his lips, drinking while he waited for her response. She was far too quiet and reserved; she must have been plotting still.  
  


Hermione watched him intently. She had returned to the trance-like state that being around him put her in as of late. The way he spoke, the touch he used when picking up items and placing them back down, and the way he looked at her. He had to have known what he was doing- what the effects of such things would be. It caused her to fall silent, a blush across her face to spread, the room to start feeling humid and muggy. The air not reaching her heated skin. All the while, leaving her in that dream-like trance, just watching and listening to him with such baited curiosity one would think she was a cat merely waiting to pounce.  
  
His question slowly drug her out of her daydreams until her eyes were no longer staring past his, but instead, at them. She cleared her throat again, and in seeing Snape drinking his, felt bad about her reaction and made to correct it. She lifted the glass once more from the table, holding it out at chest-level idly while she answered him.  
  
"No, he didn't ask me..." Hermione managed through dry lips and parched mouth. She took a solid swig of the sour liquid, draining it down to half before returning his gaze and responding to his last question.  
  
"What would _I_ like to have? Um," she almost mumbled again but stopped herself by chewing on the bottom of her lip, which still tasted of the drink. "I- whatever you'd like is fine, of course."  
  


He stopped drinking, his brow furrowing as he set the glass down and pushed it aside before leaning onto the table as he clasped his hands, resting his arms on it.

"Complacent," he noted as he watched her try to tolerate her drink. "This is not the Miss Granger I recall, even from her recent past."  
  
He entertained the idea of providing a glass of water, but the idea became pointless when the elf appeared to serve their first course- providing water as well. Severus waved the creature away after the plate was placed before them both, still watching her. "I have great difficulty believing that you have broken, no more than you have been through with me."  
  
He picked up his fork and offered a challenging look before he began to eat, temporarily removing his eyes from her- though his attention was still focused on her.

She watched him, never taking her eyes off his the entire time food was being served. _No, this indeed is not the Miss Granger you recall._  
  
"If I have changed, it would obviously be because of you," Hermione said calmly and evenly, then looked down at her own plate of food. "Or would you rather I go back to my previous behavior of throwing and hitting you with things?" At that, she cast a quick, stolen glance up at his face while he was eating for a few seconds.  
  
After eating a few bites, she took another good-sized drink of the sour stuff, not noticing the water for more than a second or two after she had drank the other completely. It wasn't long into returning to her meal that she began to feel warm and a bit foggy in the head. _It's the wine, just eat more and move on._  
  
"Well," she said in between bites, "like I said, I _could_ return to how I was acting at first. But I doubt that would be a positive thing. ...Are you to tell me what I've been through with you is just the beginning?"  
  


“You could," he said as he placed his fork on the table and reached for his drink. "It is entirely your choice; know that if you do I shall return to treating you the same as before as well; or perhaps not treating you at all. You could be left in that room to die alone, Miss Granger. Do remember where you are, and in whose good graces you must remain should you wish to live."  
  
He allowed silence to reign as he set his drink on the table, hesitating momentarily before lifting his fork once more, wondering what thoughts were passing through her mind now.

"His Lordship has decreed death for all dissenters. One might think you would be a bit more grateful, and less questioning. As for what you have been through, it was simply a taste of what you might have endured."  
  
At this point he brought his dark eyes to hers, no warmth or assurances to be found within. He watched her coldly as he spoke, taking some pleasure in her discomfort. "I can do far worse to you without laying a hand on you. You could beg me for death willingly; I could break you without a single touch. But you see, I suspect something, Miss Granger; these things are not in my best interest right now." He lowered his voice, scrutinizing her every reaction, "I would know the truth of it, and you will reveal it to me in good time."  
  


 _'You could be left in that room to die alone, Miss Granger.'_  
  
 _Alone._ Hermione could not stand the thought, especially then, of being utterly alone. It was terrifying, actually. She continued to eat calmly in spite of the threat, though her emotions never seemed to fall under his radar; he picked up on them all too easily.  
  
She paused when his eyes fell back to hers, her fork midway to her mouth. Once again, she was caught up all too easily in his verbal spider web and intense stare. She listened to him with careful intent, her fork dropping back to her plate slowly the more he spoke.

A few long seconds passed once he had said his last before she could blink or even swallow. Trying to brush past how easily he could trap her mind, Hermione blinked away from his gaze and took a new interest in the glass of water she had failed to notice earlier. Two decent sips took the sour taste from her mouth, though not from her stomach, and the air continued to not reach her skin- how long had that been happening? She held out hope that the more food she ate, the better her head would get.  
  
"I have told you everything... I don't know what _truth_ you're speaking of."

He tilted his head slightly as he watched her, curious about her answer. In no way did he believe that she was unaware, and only Veritaserum would bring the truth that she wouldn't admit, even to herself. Was it possible?  
  
 _'She lies,'_ he thought as he finished this course and moved the plate aside, leaning back comfortably.  
  
"Perhaps," was all he said for a long while as he considered his course of action and what this evening might hold. So far this evening silverware had not disappeared, and she had been on her best behavior, if not a bit odd. She seemed to have a distinct distaste for the wine; perhaps she should have more. Still, he would ensure the water remained available.   
  
"Do you still believe me to be thoroughly evil, Miss Granger?" he asked, curious to what her mindset might be- as well as wishing to throw her off balance slightly; though truthfully he expected no honest answer.

“Thoroughly evil," she asked as she finished what she could stomach of her dinner, neatly setting her silverware aside as she pushed her plate at least an inch from her to signify that she was done. Her eyes glanced over the elf who had just refilled her wine glass though she had not asked for it to be done.

 _Thoroughly evil..._ Her thoughts began to touch on the previous night, and in a flurry of indecision she picked up the wine and began to drink the sour mixture once more.

"It's... I don't know if evil is quite the right word."  
  
He was right; she did not like the question. It touched on opinions and emotions that she'd rather leave well enough alone. Hermione set the glass down and returned his heavy gaze. The food was proving to be of no help to her head, given the second glass she had set upon.

"Am I to assume dinner is now over, and that I will be _escorted_ back to the, erm, _room_ in the same manner I was brought from it in?"

He raised an eyebrow in response to her answer, not surprised or shocked, though he wasn't quite convinced. Especially given the statement she added.   
  
"And what would be the right word, Miss Granger?" he asked as he stood, crossing the room to her slowly. "If not evil, then what do you say that I am?"   
  
He offered her his hand, since she did appear somewhat off (perhaps it was the wine). "Are you in such a hurry to return to the room? Does my company disgust you so?" he asked as he leaned forward. "Shall I remove my presence from yours, never to darken your vision again?"

“No," Hermione breathed, not even meaning to speak, as he leaned over her with his hand held out for hers. She placed her hand in his without reservation and stood, the back of her knees pushing the chair back and her napkin falling to the floor at her feet.

Again, that touch. Would it never end? The vortex it created in her mind and insides?  
  
"Not darken my- not evil, but- You-" She faltered, tripping over her words and thoughts as she dared to peer up into his dark eyes. _Oh, gods..._ Her body slowly slipped sideways, attempting to slide past him with her rear against the table's edge. If she could get back to that room and sleep it off, she thought she'd be alright.

“Yes, Miss Granger?" he said again, a wry smile on his lips as he touched the table with his fingertips, resting his hand there to stop her progression. 

"I know you have a complete thought, will you not share it?" He repeated the action on her other side, his hand barely resting on the table and effectively trapping her.   
  
"Come now, you clearly have something you wish to say to me. I give you leave to do so, as I find myself somewhat interested," he spoke softly, not moving toward her or away; not pressing against her, simply remaining in extreme proximity.

"I suppose there had been dessert planned, but if you are in a terrible hurry to return to the room, I could oblige you. Is that your wish?"

Her breath caught in her throat painfully, forcing her to swallow past it which also did not feel good. She followed his face with hers, her neck bending with her back to form an almost flush position to his without actually touching.  
  
Hermione didn't want to answer him. She was torn. On the one hand, she desperately wanted to return to the room and escape him and her horrid attraction to the man, but on the other, she wanted to stay and see where things would go. How far not only he would take it, but how far she would as well.  
  
Thoughts of what she had been trying to say, dessert, and ever having a complete thought in his presence again fled from her mind. Her eyelids began to fall as she felt once again his breath against her face and hot skin. No air seemed to reach her, but his breath did. Deep and even, so close to her.  
  
"No..." she breathed, her chest rising heavily with the effort of answering him, finally.

“No?" he asked, watching her carefully as he took in her scent, never touching her. But she was close, so very tempting in her relative innocence and struggle against him.

"No, you wish no dessert? No, you wish to remain?" He moved to speak softly into her ear, "You must speak your mind more clearly. One word answers simply will not do," he whispered into her ear. "I know you are fully capable of longer answers, I have read them."  
  
He pulled back and looked at her, his face not far from hers at all. "What do you want? Not wish, but... want," he said silkily.

Hermione took in two or three strained breaths, refueling her blood with the oxygen she had denied it of for near half a minute. Her eyes, now half-lidded, closed all the way after taking in the sight of his eyes so close to hers, and bright. They were, for the first time that she had ever seen, actually bright and had a bit of a shine to them. _Gorgeous..._  
  
"I... I want you to-" she started, her eyes remaining closed as she spoke, too afraid to look him in the eye again. She felt her body pull towards him. Her hands fell from her chest to her sides before reaching behind her rear and supporting her forced bent position back over the table. The palms of her hands pressed desperately down on to the cold, wooden top, hoping the added support would aid her in regaining will-power and common sense. It was in vain, of course.  
  
She wet her lips, not aware of how close their faces had become. She had forgotten the dress she was in, and how the back was open enough to reveal the scars of letters that spelled out _'Severus Snape'_ along her entire back. His own unique mark that he had left on her body. Forever his. _So why wait? Why these games?_ She let out a strained, heavy and hot breath against his skin.

He tilted his head slightly, watching her avidly as she almost seemed to relax. Not that he wasn't prepared for her to fight, but she certainly seemed distracted enough.  
  
"What do you want?" he asked, just barely any distance between his lips and hers. "You stated that you wished me to remain, you do not wish to leave." He leaned forward so slightly, still not touching her, but barely apart.   
  
"It is clear that you have a wish, but until _you_ act on it, make it clear, you will receive nothing." He took a deep breath, inhaling her scent; it was so very tempting to just take her in his arms, not allow her the choice, but he waited. It must be her choice, and he knew it.   
  
"What would you have of me?" he breathed against her neck, suppressing a shiver as he did.

She felt her own shivers, rushing up and down her spine and over her arms, down to even the tips of her toes. It was impossible to hold in, as was her strained expression all caused by his words, the heat radiating between them, and the continued teasing of his breath against her skin. _What am I supposed to do... Just let go?_ For the first time, thoughts of the danger and situation she was in threatened to slip from her conscience mind. Just barely...  
  
 _He wants me to act on it. Act on my..._  
  
Hermione tilted her head when he said his last against her neck, causing them to finally touch, her cheek against his. It was no smooth or graceful movement by any means. It was a tad jerky, and in no way planned or thought out. It was simply her body reacting despite itself to his words, his closeness and his breath. Her fingertips dug into the top of the wooden table, both for balance and for lack of anything else to cling to so desperately.  
  
Shakily, she answered him as best she could. "I would have... you..." She either cut herself off, leaving yet another unfinished sentence, or that was her complete answer. She would have him. Her mind didn't know which it was.

He didn't ask her to finish; instead he allowed her the time she wished to speak or to act. Instead he removed one hand from the table and drew it up her back until he reached the scars, and softly traced them.   
  
"You have had little difficulty expressing yourself before now," he whispered before drawing back, putting some distance between them.   
  
Merlin her innocence was tempting; he could influence her more, be the one to "make the first move", so to speak. That was not what he wanted. Her words caused him to shiver almost involuntarily, fanning his desire. It was not virginity; he doubted that was the case. It was her naiveté, her firm faith in things in which he was so jaded; it was a powerful draw to his darker nature and it was exceedingly difficult to resist, but it was imperative that she be the first to act.  
  
"I can give you what you desire," he whispered to her. "But you must ask me, tell me." He paused, lifted her chin so she could face him directly. "Unless you do not truly know what it is that you desire, in which case I should leave you to your evening's rest. We could speak more tomorrow..."  
  
He let his words trail off as he watched her with an almost predatory gaze, waiting upon her word or touch.

Hermione tensed under the touch to her back, and the scars. Never a moment passed since he did it that she had forgotten they were there, and in that dress, she had known they would be visible. Though she was unsure if that was a reason for him picking such a dress, he hadn't even told her if he _had_ picked it out specifically for her or not.  
  
A soft whine fell off her lips when he lifted her chin, and her eyes opened slowly to gaze into his once more. _Don't leave me. No, please..._  
  
One moment she was bent slightly back still, her hands on the table top and her eyes misting over under the steady glare of his. The next, she had tilted forward, pushing herself in an awkward motion into his arms, against his chest. Her eyes remained open and staring up into his as she kissed him, bringing her hands to his shoulders shakily. She did not know what to expect; she was simply being obedient both to him, and to herself.

He allowed her the tentative touch, the cautious kiss; a definite breakthrough without a doubt and he allowed her the moment of careful exploration. Her eyes had said it all, for a moment before she was too close to focus upon he had seen it, that weakness that she had revealed so quickly.  
  
Perfect.  
  
"Better," he said softly. Gazing upon her, finally allowing her an instant of clarity, he allowed her to see his desire for her; dark and raw before he pulled her hard to him, his other hand raised from the table to tangle within her hair and hold her to him as he deepened the kiss. "This," he breathed as he pulled away ever so slightly. "This is what you wish, is it not?"   
  
He took a step forward and pressed her against the table, keeping her off balance just slightly as he kissed her once more. Curling his fingers against her back; whether he scratched her or not he cared not at all, she was one step closer to being his. The thought pulled a growl from his throat, and the sound of it actually surprised him.

"Shall I release you?" he whispered in a throaty voice, moving his attentions to her throat. More of a dare than an actual desire, if she asked it he would do it. It wouldn't do to force her; his previous admonition still in his mind- she would want him before it was done. He would see to it, he would see her fight her friends to stay; it was the only option he would accept.  
  


She could not respond verbally. Even if words were possible, her throat would not allow it. Her entire body quivered as he spoke against her, and before she was allowed a response he had taken her lips again. But Hermione had seen it; the animalistic desire in his voice, his eyes, and his actions were not lost on her completely. It was frightening, to say the least, which only seemed to fuel her anticipation.  
  
Her hair fell from its neatly-charmed bun when he twisted his fingers through it, breaking the hold the charm had.  
  
 _"This is what you wish, is it not?"_  
  
She was about to nod her head softly when he rushed her, pressing her right back onto the table behind her. She returned every bit of the kisses that she could, but the truth was she found it a bit difficult to keep up with his movements. It didn't matter, though. Her eyes closed against the deeper kisses as she savored his taste as long as she could.  
  
Being kept off balance like that caused her to cling to his shoulders desperately, her finger pads digging into his clothing as his nails scraped along the sensitive skin of her back. She simply whimpered against his lips at the motion, refusing to let go or end the contact. The growl from him echoed through her chest, and her eyes flashed open (though her vision was quite blurry) as he trailed from her mouth down over her neck, causing her to groan in response. She fleetingly thought back to the bite she gave him, and the one he gave her in turn. Yet there he was now, at her neck, doing nothing but making her feel wonderful.

'Shall I release you?' She wouldn't dare agree to such a thing, not after all that. The part of her that won her a seat in the Gryffindor house many years ago sparked silently inside of her, causing her to react finally.  
  
"No," her voice weak and pleading, "don't let me go. Don't stop." Hermione clumsily wound her arms around his neck, begging with her body that he return his attention to her lips rather than keep them on her neck, which made her nervous and only intensified her anxiety and excitement over the situation. She was quickly losing what control she might have had, willingly at that, to his touch and his presence.  
  
She continued to stumble with the placement of her feet in such a position as he had pushed her in to. Finally giving in, she found her footing for a short moment, and used the chance to go on tip-toe and raise herself enough to rest her rear completely on the top of the table in front of him. She made no move to halt his actions, in fact quite the opposite; her motions and touches were almost a taunt to him. Had it been a complete mind game for him? In her foggy, desirous state, she felt empowered enough to challenge him, and pulled on his clothing, ushering him forward against her even more.  
  


He was quite pleased with her reaction, if such mild words applied. The tugs on his clothing spoke even more loudly than her words had, and he responded by lifting her onto the table completely and leaning into her, sliding his hands along her legs to hold her to him in such a way as to make clear his intent- whether he would act upon it yet to be decided.  
  
He leaned forward, wanting to lay her back as he kissed her; the subtle cues driving him to return his lips to hers, where she appeared to want them. Where she wanted him; where he wanted her to wish for him to be. She gave him power, willingly.  
  
He lifted himself from her, his hands by her shoulders as he gazed at her. "I told you," he said in a breathy voice, "my touch need not be harsh or painful."   
  
_But she is not ready,_ he thought as he moved to raise himself from her.  
  


Hermione took in a nervous breath as he lifted her, running his hands over her legs and bringing her to him. She doubted herself at first, his actions indeed making clear his intent. Her stomach tumbled and her head ached. She almost resisted the pushing force between them as he leaned over her, pushing her back. Her fingers had twisted in the material of his clothes as she came to rely on his hold on her to keep her steady and reclined.  
  
As he kissed her again, she felt her back and shoulders meet with the table and she took the chance to untwist her fingers from his clothes. She moved her hands to his shoulders, gripping them over and over. Her chest had been on the verge of a whimper, of letting him know he had won, when he lifted off of her slightly. Her eyes flashed open, and the sort of retreat she witnessed from him seemed to completely refuel her bravery and daring.  
  
 _"I told you my touch need not be harsh or painful."_  
  
She inhaled, trembling softly underneath him, and responded with completely renewed spirit.  
  
"Show me."

Dared. That's how it felt. Dared, tempted, tested; it was not more than he could bear, however. He paused for a long moment, watching her shrewdly, calculating; she was brave to ask such a thing. He leaned over her, not resting his weight as he gently turned her head to speak into her ear. "You have no idea what you ask," he whispered as he rolled his hips against her. "I don't believe you are prepared, not yet."   
  
He rested his face against her shoulder, exhaled softly against her skin before moving his mouth to her neck once more; her taste, her scent, her _trembling_ were delicious. "I do not believe you trust me enough yet," he said a bit sarcastically before he grazed her neck with his teeth, but not biting down hard, awaiting her response.

It was true; she did not trust him. She used to, and maybe some small part of her still did, but if it remained, then it had hidden itself well. She just knew she was tired of the games, of the continued anticipation and anxiety. It was wearing her out.  
  
True, she might not have been prepared, but she did know what she asked. No, she wasn't asking, she was indeed daring him. She grew tired of being pushed and pushed only to have him get his pleasure from her weakness and leave her to her thoughts.  
  
She shifted underneath him, finally managing to regain muscle coordination. One ankle hooked around his leg at the knee, pulling him further onto her (though that had not been her intention) as he teased her skin with his teeth.  
  
"...You're stalling," Hermione breathed, willing herself to tilt her head to the side, taunting his actions by exposing her neck completely to him.  
  


He nearly lost his balance when she pulled him to her with her leg. Nearly. But now she was provoking him, teasing him; if he gave in, she would hold the power. No fool, he lifted his head and looked to her, feigning vulnerability, and his expression darkened. One hand slipped beneath her shoulder to grip her as the other slid beneath her other shoulder to twine in her hair; he did not believe she wished to be gentle with him in the least.  
  
"So you are prepared, then?" he asked as he pulled on her hair to arch her neck further, sliding his hand beneath her shoulder even more to hold her tightly to him. "Shall I take you to my bed this instant?"  
  
He released her hair as he lifted her from the table, placing her on her feet. He held her to him so she would remain upright and face him as he pushed her toward the door. "Will you go willingly, no poisons, no hexes? Shall I take you in your bed? Is that what you truly wish?" He pinned her to the closed door, not pressing her hard, he wasn't trying to hurt her after all.  
  
"I would have you willing," he said as he kissed her without any restraint, twisting the fabric of her dress in his hands as he pressed her to the door, giving in to his desire for the moment. If she still wanted, if she was not frightened, perhaps he might indulge...  
  


Hermione bit her lip when he pulled her head back, letting her eyes close, but his words caused her eyes to yet again flash open. She wasn't given any time to think on it, though, as he stood her suddenly and began shoving and pushing against her, ushering her toward the doorway.  
  
She did feel her insides jolt, and a soft look of surprise crossed her face for a moment. A groan escaped her throat, though she had fought to hold it in, once he pinned her to the door. Her arms had naturally wrapped around his neck as they moved, and she once again fisted her hands in his clothes, holding on to him tightly.  
  
Her mouth had opened slightly to answer his questions when he kissed her again. She attempted to keep up with him, but it was no graceful or experienced action on her part. She tore away from his lips, turning her head sharply to avoid his mouth again, taking in a shuddering breath her lungs desperately needed before she was to be able to speak.  
  
"I..." she breathed, turning her head still from him in a struggling attempt to say her peace. “Of course I'm willing." Her words were overly rushed, and a bit hoarse. "What more do I need to say or do, to prove that to you?"  
  


He expected worse when she turned away; he brushed his lips over her cheek as she spoke.  
  
 _"What more do I need to say or do, to prove that to you?"_  
  
He stilled completely, remaining motionless for a few moments before leaning against her to whisper in her ear. "I thought you were brighter than that," he said softly before lightly kissing her ear. "I want you to ask me to take you to my bed."  
  
He pulled back and gazed at her, amusement and desire both evident in his dark eyes as he waited. "Ask me nicely, and you shall have your desire."   
  
_"You shall beg me for release before the end. What manner of release, I leave to you."_ The edges of his lips curled as the memory passed through his thoughts. _Come now girl, show me that vaunted Gryffindor courage...  
  
_

She tensed as he grew still against her, their breaths and her own thundering heartbeat filling her ears. His answer caused a shiver to run down her spine, but she was decided. Any bit of bluffing she might have done had morphed into full-blown dares, which she felt ready to back with actions or words if need be. Indeed, that 'vaunted Gryffindor courage' was spilling over in her, pushing her onward into the moment.  
  
With her head still turned, Hermione swallowed and closed her eyes against the words she formed in her mind before turning to face him again, eyes dead set against his as she finally answered his request.  
  
"Please, take me to your bed, _sir_."  
  


Not what he wanted in tone, and he wondered about it; but only for a moment. It was time her resolve was tested. He reached into his robes, withdrawing his wand, his eyes never leaving her face; without a word he tapped her gently on her brow. In an instant a kerchief was conjured, tied in such a way as to cover her eyes. He wrapped his arm around her, holding her tightly as he apparated to a room with her; if one asks, after all... He had his word to keep.  
  
Silently he lifted her and moved to the bed, resting her onto the soft duvet before sitting beside her. Unlike her previous bed, this one was large and spacious, and covered in luxurious pillows and other rich things. He brushed her cheek softly as he studied her, blindfolded and waiting; so lovely in her submission- but had she truly given in?   
  
He didn't believe it.  
  
Leaning forward, he let his lips trail along her shoulder, a slow path to her ear before growling, "Beg me."

”What-?" was all Hermione could get out before she felt herself being apparated. She was confused, both by the sudden blindness and the apparating, but allowed herself to be led and then sat down on a bed. Was that really his bed? She had leaned into him slightly, both for balance and to keep her bearings as best as she could. The muscles in her hands and arms itched to reach up and remove the material from her face, but she stilled and instead tried turning her head against his as he approached her ear.  
  
The rough and low demand shook her insides. She could not _stand_ being blindfolded, unable to see her surroundings, especially his expression and eyes. She was left to judge his actions and words on a completely different and uncomfortable level, but she had gone this far.. She could not back down now.  
  
She swallowed hard and lowered her face, hoping to hide as best as she could from his stare she knew was on her.  
  
"Please..." Her hand found his knee, and she squeezed before moving her touch shakily up to his thigh. "Will you let me see?" She was scared and unsure, and her lack of trust was showing through all too obviously. The blindfold only made matters worse. She had felt ready to meet this head on, but the loss of her sight had shaken her will. Maybe that was what he had wanted to do. _You will not back down. Time to end this, Hermione. You placed the bet, now see it through._ Her grip on him tightened as she turned her face up to where she felt his was, and whispered the word to him again.  
  
"Please."

He smiled, listening to the nervous edge to her voice; positively delicious. "Soon," he answered as he leaned forward, pressing her back into the pillows as he moved over her. She had kept her word; now he would keep his.  
  
"You belong to me, and no other," he snarled as he leaned in to kiss her again; restraint left outside of the room.


	8. Eight

Morning light slowly began to fill the room, eventually bringing Hermione from her deep and exhausted sleep. The covers she was wrapped in were incredibly soft and heavy, keeping her quite warm. She groaned softly as she shifted from her curled position on her side to stretch out her arms and legs. Finally it hit her- where she was, and who should be beside her in the bed. She opened her eyes as she turned onto her other side, expecting to see those black eyes staring, but she didn't. They weren't there. The absence caused her to freeze, holding her breath. When she finally blinked and her lungs demanded she breathe again, she pushed herself up from the pillows and looked around the room.  
  
Where she had expected to see a darker room with greens and silvers and blacks, she instead saw the room she had been in for days. It was different, though. There was furniture; a dresser, a wardrobe, a plush-looking chair, and even a desk (though it was not supplied from what she could see with anything to write with) and, to her surprise, the door to that small washroom was still there, slightly ajar, just as she had left it the night before. _Last night..._  
  
She moved the covers off enough for her to slide out from under them, and noticed as she did so that she was not wearing any clothing other than a white button-down dress shirt, which only had three buttons actually done. It was soft against her skin, and she knew exactly where it had come from once she smelled of the sleeve. _His._

With a soft sigh, she turned and pushed herself from the bed to stand and yet again stretch her arms and legs. The shirt was long, to her, as it reached halfway down her thighs, and the sleeves were unbuttoned and hung quite a bit over each of her hands. Her middle began cramping, but she was more concerned with the (her?) room, the additions made to it, and what new chances could present themselves.

Tucking what strands she could of her unruly hair behind her ears, she walked around to each piece of new furniture, examining them carefully. By the time she got to the wardrobe, her middle was giving her enough trouble so as to make her sit down in the new chair. The pause gave her time to think, at least. After a few moments reliving the events of the past night, she had more than decided a bath was in order. As she stood, the nervous little house elf that she had seen before many times since being there appeared, and instantly scuttled to her side.

_“Is...is Miss doing well? Miss should be taking a bath, if you would like...That is, I is more than happy to help Miss with her bath."_

As usual, the poor creature did not know what to say or how to act. Hermione wondered how Snape treated the poor thing.

"Alright, yes a bath would be nice, actually. I'll-" Before she could finish, the elf had scurried into the small washroom and by the time she entered, saw that the bath tub was completely filled already with steaming warm water, two thick plain towels set on a stool directly beside the tub.

"Thank you, but I could have prepared it myself," she offered nicely to the creature, who backed nervously and as if the idea of her doing such a thing herself bothered him, and he began to wring his hands tightly. Without saying anything further, he disappeared with a sharp 'pop'.  
  
The bath was long, and thankfully enough the water had been charmed to stay warm. It also seemed to help with her cramping and soreness, which was just another reason she decided to linger in the warm water. Finally, she washed and cleaned herself thoroughly before stepping out and drying herself off.

The bath had given her all the time she had needed in order to come to terms with what had happened the previous night. They had been together, she had called what she hoped was a bluff on his end, but deep down both of them had to have known it was what they each desired.

He had been quite vigorous and rough; no gentleness unless the times he would lightly brush the back of his hand across her skin, or leave soft trails of kisses up and down her spine counted as being gentle. At least he had removed the blindfold, allowing her to see him, before they began. It had been truly frightening, and had hurt, which she did not bother hiding from him by digging her nails into his shoulders and upper back. That had only brought on more pain, as he in turn would scratch her, usually rather hard, breaking the skin many times. His marks were all over her after that. Many cuts, scars, bite marks, and not to forget his name spanning her entire back. _  
_

 _'You belong to me, and no other...'_ The words repeated themselves over and over in her mind. The entire night he had been more than primal. It was a sort of possessive drive she had never seen in another before. He had repeated the phrase, as well as various other statements close to it in nature, always followed by a growled demand of acceptance from her over what he had just said, and she had obeyed, pleaded, begged, and confirmed all he had asked of her.

No, he had certainly not been gentle, though she knew it had not been for lack of experience or knowledge. Before the night was through, she had many new injuries, a terrible pain in her abdomen, and a pounding headache. But once he ran his hand and wand over her as she lay in the bed attempting to recuperate, she fell asleep instantly. It had been a peaceful and restful sleep at that, though no dreams were to be had. She supposed it was then, after he had put her to sleep, that he left her and the room. _Why didn't he take me to HIS bed, like I asked? Like he made me ask?_  
  
Not wanting to dwell on it any longer, she finished drying off and was about to return to the room when the oval mirror on the back of the washroom door caught her attention. She stood, staring into it for a few seconds before attempting to remove it from the door. It wouldn't budge. She wrapped one of the towels around her hand, making a fist, and punched at the mirror with as much strength as she could muster. But it did not break, and the only thing she gained was a slightly sore hand. _Must be charmed unbreakable...Figures._ With a sigh, she wrapped the towel she had already used around her and returned to the room, bringing the shirt she had been wearing when she awoke with her as well.

She spent quite a bit looking through the various new pieces of furniture, and couldn't help but smile at the assortment of new clothes that were in the wardrobe. After picking out a decent pair of underwear (white, with a tasteful bit of lace) and an almost knee-length deep burgundy pleated skirt, she put on the button-down white dress shirt again and went to see what state her hair was in. Horrible, but thankfully, the small elf reappeared, asking if she was in need of anything. She asked him if he could help with her hair, like he had done the previous night, but that it remain down instead of in a bun. With a boney-fingered snap, her hair was completely dry and had returned to a wavier look than bushy and unruly.  
  
Hermione sat on the edge of the bed, thinking, for quite some time. The events of the past night replaying over and over. _I am not an innocent anymore. What will be his reason now for keeping me alive? Has anything changed between us?_

She sighed deeply and placed her hands over her face. She was embarrassed. Embarrassed, humiliated, regretful...but then again, she was also relieved, thankful and even content with what had happened. So, she was indeed his, now more than ever. He knew all too well what he was doing, and what he was taking from her. As did she. She had been completely willing to bend to his desires and demands, and never once did it give her displeasure once she was used to it. The look in his eyes had pushed her on, forcing her to please him and to be obedient in all things.  
  
After a while, the memory of the papers, photo and the unused potion bottle she had hidden away returned to her. She stood and after making sure the elf had left, proceeded to check her hiding places. Yes, they were still there. For some reason, it put her at ease for a few minutes, and she could not help but take the photo out once more to watch the younger Severus Snape stand in front of a house, looking utterly out of place, miserable and unsure with the world around him. _Stop, this isn't the time nor place to go dwelling on a young Snape._  
  
Hermione went about examining the new additions again, looking for anything that could be of use to her. But, there was nothing, and the legs of the chair were too big and secure to be broken off. With a sigh, she began to pace. After a bit, she eyed the main door. _I'm wasting my time,_ she thought to herself as she approached the door cautiously. Slowly, she reached for the handle, turning it, and to her complete shock, she was able to pull it open with ease.

She just stood there, eyes wide, staring out into the short hallway that led to a small staircase at the end. She glanced back over her shoulder at the room, then down at the elf who was by then switching from foot to foot nervously, little hands wringing over and over. After glancing back out into the hallway, she turned to the elf and said softly, "Is that supposed to happen? Does he mean for me to...be let out like this?"

  
 _"Master said only...only to tend to your needs, miss. He did not- the door was not...I was not being told to lock you in, miss. I is only doing what Master demands of me."_  
  
 _'Well,'_ she thought, _'regardless of why, the door is unlocked. Am I free?'_ Without another thought, she stepped out of the room and after a few paces with nothing happening, she took off quickly heading for the staircase. She climbed the stairs, which twisted and took her through what seemed to be between the walls of a lower part of the house. It was the same path the elf had taken her through on the way to dinner the night before. When she reached the top, a dark wooden door stood waiting. With a deep breath, she grasped the handle and pulled sideways on it, causing it to slide to the left silently, revealing the plain yet clearly well-furnished and tasteful study. After casting about the room, she left the stairwell and began to slowly walk through the study, shaking elf right behind her every step of the way.

After listening closely to make sure no one was around, Hermione crept into the dining room. At that point, the elf began to make a nervous sort of whining noise. She turned to him, asking if he could keep quiet, to which he mumbled something about breakfast being ready if she was hungry. "Not now," she answered in a whispered response, "but please stay quiet for now?" He hopped from foot to foot nervously before seeming to decide on a course of action and disappearing just as quickly. "Wait-" she called softly, but he was already gone. _Great. Now I have to hurry; no doubt he's gone to alert Snape..._  
  
She immediately set out to explore the rooms she could, quietly looking for anything she might be able to use. She had a spurt of hope when she headed for the kitchen door, only to find that it along with some other seemingly random room doors were locked with wards in place. The door to the second to last room for her to try opening did in fact open, and within second she knew it was his bedroom.

The fleeting glance she got of the room showed her a place that was well-furnished and dark, the air inside cooler than that of the temperature in the rest of the house. She could hear him breathing, deep and evenly; apparently he was still asleep. Hermione backed slowly, not closing the door completely to avoid the click it would make, possibly waking him up in the process. She let out the huge breath she had been holding since she cracked open the door. _Is this my chance?_  
  
It would indeed seem to have been her chance at freedom, at escaping. _Then what would you do? What about him?_ The thought caused Hermione to shake her head, as if doing so would rid her mind of such thoughts. It seemed that she had freedom laid at her feet. Was it on purpose?

Heart beating furiously, she hurried to the front door and tried to fling it open, but nothing happened. She tried a second, then a third time, and still no luck. She tried one last time, throwing her shoulder against the hard wood, only to be tossed backward by an invisible force. With a sigh, she looked around about her quickly, and a small pile of letters and envelopes caught her eye, laying out on a writing desk in the far part of the room. _It couldn't hurt..._  
  
Hermione picked up the penned letters and began reading.  
  
 _Snape, I trust you are doing well with your assignments, as well as with your newly acquired 'prisoner'. Speaking of that, please do keep in mind that the plan requires both girls to remain alive in some aspect of the word. My son has been overly confident and is letting it get to his head (but when is that not the case?) His control over the Weasley girl is drowning him; he destroyed her wand. However, I think he has already mentioned this to you. He lacks tact, to say the least._

 _Regardless, I am writing to confirm a time and date for a meeting. There are some things I wish to discuss with you, both concerning you and your little mudblood toy as well. Tomorrow will work well for me, so be expecting a visit before noon. -L.M._  
  
Hermione felt a jolt of fear shoot up through her stomach and into her throat. Lucius Malfoy was coming? She glanced at the date on the letter, then after a bit of searching in the desk, managed to find a calendar. _That is today! He is coming today?_ The noise of the elf reappearing behind her caused her to start, shying away from the noise before realizing what had made it.  
  
 _"I is...is to be waking Master now. Master has company arriving soon."_ He seemed more worried than usual over it, and Hermione got the direct impression that she should definitely leave or hide herself. She opted to hide, having found nothing of real use to her or her situation yet.

She was quickly tucked into a ball under a writing desk in one of the various small rooms that looked more than not to be unused and forgotten the most. It was not long until she hear some moving about in the room next to the one she was in. It was silent, lazy movements. Maybe Snape had awoke, and was now eating breakfast? She was less than thrilled to hear Snape up, hoping she could have slipped out without a fight. Not long after she heard him enter the dining room, a few raps on the main door echoed through the house. _It's him..._  
  
Hermione curled into a tighter ball under the desk, chair pulled up to the desk in an effort to hide her better. She strained her ears, attempting to hear what Malfoy might had to say and what Snape would say in response. She did not notice the elf had once again disappeared.

Awakened by the soft, nervous whispers of the house elf reminding him of impending company, he dismissed the creature and sat up, bringing his hands to his face as he yawned. Why was he so tired, and why wasn't he awake before this? The memory of the previous night returned and he snorted, pushing his duvet away as he swung his legs off the bed and onto the floor.

He had enjoyed it, certainly; he didn't think she did- entirely. She did act the part, but there were times that he believed she had given in, at least for a moment. She did not fight him nearly as hard as he had expected; the injuries drove him on. She had managed to cause him to nearly lose his control, so very close; and he enjoyed it. They would definitely need to explore that again.  
  
For now, he had other things to consider, chief among them his expected guest- an unpleasant proposition this time, for he knew what was desired. He took a deep breath as he stood and walked to his wardrobe, gathering clothing rather than robes; black trousers, boots, and a white shirt similar to the one he had left for her. This he buttoned completely, black cravat included. A quick spell and his preparations were complete, and he walked to the dining room, instructing the elf to bring his company when he arrived.  
  
He heard the knock not long after he entered the room and decided to remain standing; he may not have much of an appetite after this. He didn't have long to wait.  
  
"Lucius," he greeted as the man entered the room, turning to face him directly. "You have business you wished to discuss with me?"  
  
"Severus, never one for cordialities, were you?" Lucius asked as he entered, shaking his head. "Really, you would think you might pretend from time to time."  
  
Snape took a seat, returning a wry smile to the comment. "Time is always of the essence, and I have known you for too long. Why should there be formalities between us?" he asked, motioning for Lucius to sit. "Let us be plain. Yes, your son did speak to me; he seems rather pleased with his situation. It is as he asked, after all."

  
  
"Yes, so it would seem," Lucius replied. "Perhaps a bit enthusiastic, but pleased nonetheless." He lifted a glass from the table, examining it almost distractedly. "He has expressed an interest in seeing what you have done with yours. He tells me that that the conversation he last had with you has led him to believe that you are being soft on the mudblood. I somehow doubt this is true, Severus. Why would he gain such an impression?”

“Your son wished for me to share her with him, perhaps even give her to him," he answered simply. "I declined. I did advise him to keep his guest with care, and he did not appreciate it. Clearly he feels he is entitled to anything he wishes, including the property of others." He leveled his gaze with Lucius, his expression serious as he spoke. "He must learn propriety."

  
  
Lucius laughed lightly, and Severus frowned in return. "It comes with being a Malfoy," Lucius answered with a casual shrug, replacing the glass to the table. "He is allowed to have a certain amount of latitude when it comes to such things; consider it a boon that comes with his position. So what say you, Severus; will you give him this? Consider it a gift to the son of the Minister." The smile that graced his lips was certainly not friendly, and the expression on his face expectant- though perhaps not for the response that was given.

  
  
"No."

  
  
"No?" Lucius asked, the smile falling from his face. "Perhaps I have not made it clear to you. I would have this for my son, he desires it. There is a debt from school that she owes him, surely you of all people understand that?"

  
  
Severus raised his chin as he spoke with a deliberately bored air. "I understand completely, but the answer remains no. Debt or no, she is within my possession; his debt with the Weasley girl certainly takes priority. He can content himself with that."

  
  
Lucius was not pleased, and he striaghtened slowly. "I thought we could settle this easily, but I see that you will be stubborn, as usual. Perhaps we should bring this to his Lordship, and allow him to mediate. I sincerely doubt that he would deny my son what he wishes."

  
  
Severus stood, placing one hand on the table as his voice took a more firm tone. "So, you wish to bring this to him? Let us review, shall we? After all, we should discuss all facts, not just the convenient ones. Since we begin with the matter of debt, allow me to remind you of your family debt- the one your family owes to me. Had it not been for my actions-"

  
  
"Interference," Lucius interjected.

  
  
"Actions," Severus repeated, folding his arms over his chest. "You would be without an heir. He failed to do what the Dark Lord ordered him to do, the job your wife asked me to vow to perform. By the request of your own family, your heir lives; due to my intercession, the Dark Lord did not kill the boy. It vexes him still that the boy did not perform the act; if you wish to remind him of it, by all means we should go. Do not assume that he would gift such a one as her upon your pureblood family for no more reason than the fact that you are pureblood. How would you explain such a desire, after all? It is forgivable for a half-blood to desire to keep a Muggleborn, but a pureblood? Particularly of your family's standing?"

Lucius had reddened at the chastisement. "You dare speak to me thusly?" he said coarsely.

  
  
"I do," Severus responded silkily. "Wizarding Life Debt," he added. "She is mine."

  
  
Lucius snapped up his cane, striking the ground with it in a light show of temper. "Very well. We are not through, Severus. I thought the fact that you have such standing originated with me should mean something. Old associates and all."

Severus watched impassively, "Oh yes, I bear the mark thanks to you, but that is where it ends. My service to you and to him have been exemplary throughout the years; the merit is my own. Therefore, your argument holds no further weight, Lucius. I suggest you take this to whatever level you wish. The girl remains with me."

Lucius stilled for a moment before drawing his wand swiftly. "You are soft for her, I think..." he said quietly.

  
Just as quickly Severus had his wand to Lucius' throat; an even match. "You assume too much," Severus retorted. "I believe our business is through, Lord Malfoy. If you do not know the way out, my elf will escort you..."

  
  
Lucius hesitated before replacing his wand with a sharp motion. "So be it. This is not over, Snape." And with that he turned on his heel and exited the room, making his way from the house with a show of temper in the way he slammed the door.

  
  
"I didn't expect it to be," Severus said to no one in particular as he sheathed his wand. With a growl he sat, a snap of his fingers indicating that it was time for breakfast, and wondered if she was up yet, and whether she would have the courage to join him.


	9. Nine

The conversation she overheard had been, to say the least, frightening. At least under Snape's care, she was in some form or fashion taken care of, and if the additions to her room were indeed there to stay, it sure looked to be a better situation than she feared her friend was in. At least, she had thought, at least we're not to be killed. _At least she is alive..._  
  
Hermione listened carefully for a few minutes. Everything was silent, for the most part. Slowly, being careful not to make any noise, she moved the chair from the desk and crawled out from under it. After finally standing herself up straight, being overly careful not to make any noise, she went about searching the room for anything that could be of use to her. After what seemed to be half an hour of searching slowly, she managed to find a book with metal corners on its covers, which she tucked into her skirt in the back, the long dress shirt falling almost as far as the skirt, hiding it fairly well. She had found a letter opener as well, but discovered it dealt no damage to the desk or her own hand when she tried to use it, and so she had put it back. The nib on the end of each writing quill also dealt no damage. _Such a paranoid person..._  
  
Carefully, she approached the door and peered out of it. Nothing. Gathering her resolve, Hermione held out her hand, palm up and expectant, and concentrated heavily on her wand. It didn't take long for something to happen. Down the hall, a rattling noise grew louder and louder coming from Snape's bedroom, the door left ajar. She listened carefully, and just as she took a step into the hall, intent on making a mad dash for his bedroom, there came a loud thud. It sounded quite a bit like a box falling to the floor, its contents struggling to escape from within. The noise caused her to jump, her hands flying to her mouth. She stood still, frozen in the hall staring at his bedroom door, unsure of what she should do next.

  
Eating his breakfast, he was not worried with the whereabouts of his guest as much as the previous conversation with Lucius. No, he had what he wanted; it was simply a matter of taming her, bringing her to control under his hand. Lucius would never appreciate the potential held within that mind, as he valued blood over all. Intelligence was something Severus prized highly, and while she could not be on her own to be educated, she could serve. Why waste a good mind if it was possible to retrain her?

He heard the crash from his bedroom and he jerked, dropping his fork and moving from his chair in a swift movement. In the hall he found her, looking just as nervous and perhaps a bit frightened.   
  
"What do you believe you are doing?" he asked as he passed her, pushing the door open to retrieve the box from the floor. "If this is the item you wish to possess, you may have it- in time." He turned from her to place it within a dresser, sealing it within. "When you are trustworthy."

She held her breath as he saw her, then passed her without a touch or shove. A hard swallow and she was able to speak, answering him as he secured the box.  
  
"I was trying to find my wand," Hermione stated softly, remaining perfectly still in the hall as he said more to her. _At least now, I know where it is._  
  
Finally, she moved, taking a deep breath for courage as she walked in his direction. It felt wrong almost; her being allowed to wander almost freely about his house. Each step she took felt daring and dangerous, but he seemed to not care that she was outside of her room. _He must have left it unlocked on purpose,_ she thought as she reached the door to his bedroom.  
  
Her eyes finally took in his appearance. She felt her insides begin to twist once more, and with it returned her awareness of the cramping. She leaned her shoulder against the door frame, her actions subtle; she did not want him noticing she was in any sort of discomfort, though knowing him he would pick up on it regardless.  
  
"You'll give my wand back?" The question was low in tone, and after a second she looked away from him to take in the appearance of his entire room. An internal force pulled at her, and she obeyed, taking two steps into the room while still looking around.

“When I trust you," he answered, turning to face her as he leaned against the dresser. She was wearing his shirt still; she had obviously bathed this morning and changed clothes, but the shirt remained. He found that to be pleasing, and his mouth quirked as he hid the smirk that threatened.

Turning from her he walked to a narrow cabinet, throwing the doors open to reveal its contents; multiple shelves of potions of all sorts. Powders, liquids, boxes of items littered its shelves; he reached toward a higher shelf, touching the lids of the bottles until he found the one he wished. 

"Ah," he said as he plucked the bottle from the cabinet. "Elixir of Healing," he said simply as he closed the doors, drawing his finger across the lock to seal it. "I have no need to poison you."   
  
He stretched his arm toward her, offering the bottle if she wished it. Merlin knew he had enough; the cabinet was a virtual apothecary, and it had served him well many times in the past.

"Of course if you do not want it..." He let his carefully worded statement trail off; want, not need.

Hermione silently watched him cross the room, and noted how he opened and locked the cabinet. While he was fingering the bottles, she glanced back at where he had put her wand. Would he really give it back? She couldn't imagine it, let alone what she'd do if she had it back. _Does he expect me to want to remain here, regardless...?_  
  
His words brought her back, her eyes switching from his hands to his face then back to his hands. Her first instinct was to accept the elixir, but after a few seconds of consideration, she folded her arms across her stomach and shook her head softly.  
  
"No, I don't _want_ it," she answered, giving the word emphasis herself. After all, she was a strong woman when it came down to it, and even if she was not aware of it then, she still did not wish to erase the physical reminder of what they had done.  
  
With a soft sigh, she entered the room further. Her hands dropped to her sides, and she let the tips of her fingers trail across the smooth wood of his bed's post, falling to then trail over the covers. She looked about her still, taking in all she could before allowing herself to look at his bed, then slowly over her shoulder at him.  
  
"So," she said slowly, seating herself on the edge of his bed, "what did Malfoy want?"

If she didn't want it, so be it. He turned and opened the cabinet once more, replacing the bottle to its former resting place, closing it and touching the lock once more. 

She was relatively silent, and he turned to see her examining his room. He took several steps toward her, preparing to usher her out when she took a seat, so confident, almost comfortably.  
  
 _"So... what did Malfoy want?"_  
  
He stopped, his eyes widening slightly as he looked to her. "What indeed," he replied as he stepped slowly toward her, placing one hand on the bed post as he walked around the end of the bed, stopping at the corner. "As you probably heard, he desires you- or perhaps I should make it more clear. Draco wants you, and he came to negotiate a price."

“Ah." She tensed slightly as she watched him approach her so slowly. It was damn near torture. "I actually couldn't hear much; I wasn't sure about leaving the stairwell," Hermione lied. He stopped just short of reaching her, almost causing her to grimace. Instead, she took in a slow, deep breath and attempted to relax, resting her hands back on the bed behind her.

"So...are you going to?" Her question was flat in tone, but her insides were turning flips. Regardless of if she had actually overheard them or not. "Is there a _price_ you'd accept?"

“Were you now?" he asked, watching her discomfort with some small level of amusement. "Yet you hear enough to know precisely who was visiting, and from the stairwell no less. He did not see you, or he would have mentioned it. Either you are exceedingly adept at hiding, or..."

He reached out and placed his hand on her cheek, turning her face fully toward his. "…You are lying to me," he said quietly as he focused upon her, looking for those tendrils of thought that would betray the truth.   
  
"What do you believe yourself to be worth?" he asked smoothly, curious as to what her answer might be.

Hermione had been prepared to avoid eye contact, not forgetting his skill at Legilimency, but his touch caused her to falter in her resolve. She looked up at him almost longingly before being able to blink and look to the side, away from his eyes.  
  
"I would prefer to not put a price on myself. If it's all the same to you..."  
  
Yet still, under his touch she fell obedient and followed his will. Her muscles loosened a bit, and the air seemed come more easily to her lungs. She knew he had refused to give her to the Malfoys, but still it worried her greatly. And, the previous night...were they ever to discuss it? Was she to act as if nothing happened? That was something she could not do, and she found herself looking for any sign or signal from him, to confirm what had happened. If he had enjoyed it. If it was to ever happen again... She let those thoughts flood her mind as she returned her eyes to his, those of Malfoy and his visit pushed further and further away.

He would have forced her to look back to him, had she not willingly turned her eyes to him; clearly she was hiding something, and he could guess what it might be. Based upon her calm demeanor, she knew.  
  
"I will tell you, since you are reluctant to name your own price," he answered as he moved to stand before her, placing both hands on her face as he pulled her to him for a kiss- not a bruising, harsh kiss like the previous evening, but an insistent, possessive one bare of the intensity of the previous night.   
  
"Death awaits you at the manor," he whispered in her ear. "He will speak to the Dark Lord. If I were you, I might be worried." He kissed her once more before releasing his grip on her and moving a few steps away.  
  
"Your value is directly related to your desire to kill me. The more you wish to do so, the less I wish to protect you; I am no fool. Therefore, consider your price carefully." He turned and settled in a nearby chair to await her response.

She found all the confirmation she needed of the previous night in his lips and his touch. The actions were exactly what she had been needing, waiting for, and as if he had known, he obliged and gave her what she looked for. _Thank you..._  
  
"I _am_ worried," Hermione breathed as he released her and stepped away. She watched him, her eyes remaining on his as he spoke and took a seat. _My desire to kill him...Do I? Want to kill him?_ The question to herself was pointless. She turned to face him better, though still remaining seated on his bed comfortably.  
  
"I do not wish to kill you..." Her voice trailed off as she thought more and more on the situation. She sat upright, returning her feet to the floor but not completely pushed off the bed to stand.

"Are you still to hunt down the others? Are you still brewing the Polyjuice Potion? What will you do?" It was only the start to the mountain of questions she planned to ask him that morning.

  
He leaned on the arm of the chair, bringing his hand to his mouth as she began her incessant questions. "I have my orders," he said quietly, watching her reactions very carefully. "They were issued to all; of course I have been occupied for some time, so I have not been particularly effective. As for the potion...I have uses for it, of course; but it was requested by another, so I shall not be keeping it."

His eyes fell to a bottle on the dresser that contained a few hairs- curly brown hairs, before bringing his eyes back to hers. "I will be keeping that."  
  
He dropped his hand as he adjusted his position to something more comfortable. "My current course is to ensure that I keep my assistant, provided said assistant does not attempt to cause harm once again."

Hermione listened to his answers, none of which exactly surprised her. Except for when he looked at a bottle nearby containing what she assumed to be those hairs he had taken from her for the potion, and stated firmly that he would be keeping it. She followed his eyes, never looking away after that.

"Who?" was the first thing that fell from her mouth, but it had not been thought through in the least. Not only did who requested the potion not matter, but was also none of her business really. She shook her head, attempting to dismiss it, which was in itself no small feat. It was nearly impossible for her to contain all the questions that demanded to be asked, but she managed to still herself for the time being. Just barely.  
  
"I am your assistant, then? Is that the title you have chosen for me?" She stood finally, her left hand casually smoothing down the shirt around her waist then to her rear, which was actually a move to ensure the book she had taken with her stayed put. Which it did, and the shirt once more fell to its comfortable resting spot against her thighs, the sleeves falling back to their place over her hands. She wondered what he thought of her continuing to wear it, and decided to give him an odd sideways glance as she fiddled with the over-sized cuffs that fell about the tops of her hands.

“That would depend entirely upon you," he answered, watching her stand and adjust her clothing- his shirt. "Those potions you might have created before are no longer an option. Your choice is this; willing guest, or detainee. You might use your intellect to keep your life, or you may surrender it for no good reason. That choice I leave to you."

He watched her adjust the cuffs, the glance stirring him. She was well and truly his in theory, but not in truth; when she would approach him for what she wanted, when she concerned herself with his welfare- then he might trust. He drew his arms to his chest, crossing them tightly as he watched her.

"Do keep in mind that if I do not have a use for you, it would be more difficult to justify keeping you from the manor."

She stood perfectly still as he spoke, her fingers holding on to the undersides of the cuffs loosely, with her hands to her sides. So, that's how it was to be, still. Understandable, of course. She nodded softly as he finished, and once enough silence had passed to confirm he was indeed finished, she set upon him again with her questions.  
  
"The potions I might have created, are you speaking of the sort I can no longer be of use with due to last night?" Hermione kept her eyes steady on his. Her entire body seemed to buzz with daring and an almost inappropriate anxiousness to test the waters so to speak.

"Do you regret it? Does it change anything? And," she added, completely shifting direction with her questions, "...if keeping me from the Malfoys is difficult already, why bother? Hmm?" She took two steps toward him lazily, her hands softly swinging at her sides as she moved.

"Don't get me wrong, I've already told you I would prefer to remain here..." She was within reach of him, and another step brought her mere inches from his legs. "But, you are confusing me." _Though that's hardly a new development_ , she thought to herself as she looked down onto his face.

Were he to stand, he might have knocked her over; it wasn't his intent. "Yes, last night ended the possibilities for not only those potions, but the gathering of certain ingredients; what could have been done no longer matters."   
  
He remained silent, considering the more personal of her questions as he measured her unusually brave demeanor. She was goading, and he wondered just what it was she wanted to hear; perhaps she thought she could bring him under her control. He smiled coldly as he considered the game she might be playing.  
  
"First, I regret few- if any, of my actions. Second, clearly things have changed, as you are in _my_ room walking freely, are you not?" He began to trace the piping adorning the arm of the chair almost distractedly as he leaned back somewhat to continue to face her.   
  
"Your confusion is not my concern, and my reasons are my own. If you are truly disappointed, your accommodations can be changed," he said somewhat irritably. "I do not share; know this. I keep you from them as I have use for you, as I previously stated. They would not appreciate your...intellect." He would be hard pressed to admit anything beyond that.   
  
"More questions, Miss Granger?" he asked, eyebrow raised and a dare in his eyes as well.

Hermione watched his movements carefully, though she was feeling quite confident. Over what, she was not sure, but something inside her had sparked, like a switch being flipped on, when she entered his bedroom. Saw where her wand was. Sat freely on his bed. And, how he had been so very firm in his denial to Lucius Malfoy.

He could say what he wanted, but she heard it in his voice, when he had told Lucius no. She did not feel any tables were turned, that the upper hand was now hers. But, she did feel empowered to try. Try and get closer to him, to show him more of her; of who she was, completely. If she had any chance of being free again, she had to first bend to his will. She already had bent a great deal, but he required more, and she would oblige.  
  
Her fingers still held to the material of the cuffs, hands remaining at her sides. The way he spoke both confused her and confirmed certain speculations she had. For one, he was still insistent on making the whole ordeal seem like a matter of business, and only that. She knew quite well that if it were such, she would have been in far worse conditions, not to mention a surrendering to the Malfoys would not have been so nearly out of the question.  
  
"You did not answer me; do you regret it, on any level?" She barely paused before spilling on with another question. "And, while we're on the subject...why did you not bring me here? To your room, like you had me beg of you to do?" Her irritation at the matter was clearly evident in her voice. She had been wanting to flat-out ask the question from the start, after all.

She was becoming more brazen, more straightforward than she had been in some time; the reasons for it he could only speculate.   
  
He should have thrown her out, but he didn’t. She was altogether too comfortable in his room, in approaching him; he would have to remind her who held the cards- even if it made the situation worse. It wasn’t as though he believed she had forgone the idea of escape, after all.  
  
His expression darkened after she offered those questions and he stood quickly, not caring if she lost her footing and fell or not. “I brought you to your room because it was _convenient_ ,” he hissed. “I said I regret few things, and I shall not count that among them. You may if you wish, but do remember that you were- in point of fact, offered a choice. And now that I have answered your question, answer mine.” He grabbed her by the arm, intending to push her out of the room after he had his answer.   
  
“Do you regret it, resent it? Do you hate me for it?” He shook her once, not violently but enough to retain her attention. “Would you see me pay for it?”

She had braced herself as she finished speaking, seeing the expression on his face, though not well enough to keep from grabbing his sleeve to prevent falling. And she did not let go once she regained her footing, even when he in turn grabbed her arm and shook her. His grip was tight, though not so much as it had been the first few days in his _care._ She winced but did not attempt to pull away from him. She would stand her ground.  
  
Hermione did not see how taking her to that room, as opposed to his own, was convenient in any sense of the word, but it was hardly the point she needed to stress or question him further on. He knew after that, her displeasure with it, and her preference should the situation arise again.  
  
She readied her response, keeping her eyes directly on his. "No," she said, the word breathed out heavily and rushed. "No, I do not regret it. And no, I do not resent it, nor do I hate you for it." A hurried breath, just the amount of time she needed to build her courage up more and say the last. "However, there _are_ things I'd 'see you pay for'...I'm sure you are well aware of those. _That_ , however, is _not_ one of them."

He ushered her from his room, shutting the door behind him before pushing her away. "So... you would see me pay. Are you Lady Justice, come to offer retribution on behalf of those no longer capable?" he snarled.  
  
He snapped his fingers and the elf appeared, shivering in the face of what he knew was a poor temper. "You will not leave her for any time while she is out of her room- which is where I want her within the next thirty minutes." He opened his mouth to speak further, but snapped it shut as he grabbed his arm, the mark burning. Malfoy must have spoken to the Dark Lord after all.  
  
"I do not have time for this squabble. When I return, you shall be more congenial, or you shall be away from my sight." He turned to retrieve his items, but not before offering a dark look to her. "I will not be gone long; do not think this affords you free reign." With a pop, he vanished, leaving her with the elf for the time being.


	10. Ten

Hermione stood completely still as he spoke, hands clutched to her chest in case she needed to push away from him or react quickly. She flinched at his sudden and sharp snap, summoning the elf. The poor creature's demeanor was all too telling, showing that he had seen such a foul mood from his master many times before.

_In the next thirty minutes,_ she thought, which had kept her from noticing his hand flying to his left forearm. _So...I have time to-_ He interrupted her thoughts with more bitter words. The look he spared before leaving was not lost on her. She remained perfectly frozen for a few seconds after he was gone. She gave disapparating a useless try, and as expected was met with complete resistance from the multiple wards in place.  
  
With a grunt of distress, she turned and headed straight for the door to his room. The effort was in vain, after having spent a few minutes attempting to gain access, failing, and having to listen to the elf's pleas to stop and simply return to her room. She finally kicked at the bottom of the door, doing more damage she felt to her foot. "Ugh..."  
  
 _"If Miss would be returning t-to her room now..."_ Hermione turned to face the elf, favoring her right foot slightly until the dull throbbing the kick had caused died down. "Just...hold on, alright?" She sighed softly as she rested the back of her shoulders on the sturdy door that was now behind her. The elf was still shivering, shifting from foot to foot with anxiety. He opened his mouth to speak several times, but changed his mind before any words could be uttered.  
  
"Thirty minutes," she mumbled to herself softly. _This is the perfect chance._ She pushed off the door and set about investigating the house again, elf on her heels the entire time. The kitchen door still denied her entry, as did two other doors she had previously tried that morning. She returned to the room she had hidden in during Malfoy's visit, hoping to find more things she could use to her advantage. She found another book with sharp, metal corners, as well as two old wooden chairs stacked in a small closet. They must have not been under any wards; she found it all too easy to snap off a leg with minimal effort. She rushed the items down to her room, stashing them between the two new mattresses that now made up her large bed. The elf was hesitant to move aside from the doorway once she was done, but after reminding him Snape had only instructed that she be in the room within thirty minutes, that her time was not out, and that he had not specified that once she was in the room, she must be locked in, he scuttled out of her way and let her leave once more to continue her investigation.  
  
Her return trip, Hermione decided to go through the second study. It was not completely formal in appearance, but it definitely had a more lived-in look and feel. Nothing was dusty, and the leather-back armchairs looked worn in comfortably. She ran the tips of her fingers over the chair's back as she walked along one wall examining it top to bottom. There were many bookshelves, all filled with books of marvelous and varying subject matters, though some gave her an unnerving feeling just by touching them or reading their titles.

One of the higher shelves was lined with texts that seemed to concentrate solely on blood magic, both light and dark uses. The volumes next to them hinted at information on marks, methods and potions that could be used to grant the reader various levels of control over others. Overall, she was not surprised at the subject matter of the books, though the lack of dark arts in some was a bit odd to her. She had grown up around him, knowing his desire to take the position of Dark Arts professor, therefor giving his image in her mind a heavy shadowing of the subject.

The elf had softened his whimpering and pleading, as if attempting to keep his voice down in order to avoid waking or disturbing someone, or something. This change caused her to finally stand in the middle of the room and cast about her at the walls. Many large paintings were hung, their frames clean and taken care of in appearance. Most of them depicted a scene of a personal library or study, though they were devoid of any inhabitant, or at least appeared to be. She approached them one by one, examining the scenes closely. They were highly detailed, right down to the titles of the books filling each shelf. Surely there was more meaning to them...  
  
Hermione approached the third one, and after a few seconds raised her hand to touch a finger to the canvas. The elf protested suddenly, but what caught her attention was not the elf. Instead, it was a sharp hiss seeming to have come from the previous painting she had been looking at that drew her attention quickly. She stepped back and looked to the second painting where a woman now stood, emerging slowly from behind one of the bookshelves set further into the background of the scene.  
  
"Who's there," she asked tentatively, hoping the woman would come closer so she could attempt to make out who it was.

“I might ask you the same," the woman replied, though she came no closer at first. Barely visible in the background of the painting, she walked a very short distance before turning to duck between bookshelves and disappear from view.

Several minutes passed before she reappeared, this time in the painting Hermione had just attempted to touch, and close enough to be visible this time. She moved slowly, her gaze never leaving the young lady who stood within the room. The woman in the painting was younger, quite possibly close to Hermione's own age, and she dressed in a more severe old fashioned dress, almost Victorian style; high collared, with many buttons on the sleeves and the bodice, and a skirt that fell in layers of fabric trimmed in satin, though there was no bustle on this particular dress. Her shoes even reflected the time period, or what was visible of them; heeled boots laced to the ankle. No hat adorned her head; instead her long hair was gathered into a pony tail at her shoulders and adorned with a large black bow, visible only when she turned.  
  
She crossed her arms as she approached, her pale skin highly contrasted against the black of her dress and her hair, her expression sullen, but not hateful or even angry. Certainly curious, and she approached very slowly, very cautiously.

"I believe I have heard your voice before, from outside of this room," she said softly, her dark eyes never leaving Hermione's face. The woman stopped at the edge of the painting, which was rather large and encompassed the majority of the wall- as did two others hanging on their respective walls; nearly floor to ceiling in height. She was nearly life size where she stopped, casting a quick look to the overly nervous house elf who almost seemed as though he wanted to faint.

"Silly thing," she said softly, with a hint of affection before returning her gaze to Hermione, stoic once more. "So I will ask once more; who are you, and how did you get into my study and- perhaps more importantly, why are you here?"

The voice that spoke back was oddly even in tone, and if anything had a somewhat soft feeling. Hermione stepped back again, and approached the third painting once the woman reappeared, choosing that painting over her previous for whatever reason. She looked down to the elf when the woman did as well, calling him a 'silly thing' with an even softer feel to her voice.  
  
Hermione returned her gaze to the woman's, finally taking in her appearance as well. Her clothes, her skin, her hair...the likeness was impossible to not notice. The other's questions snapped her thoughts from Snape back to the present, staying her suspicions and curiosity for the time being.  
  
"I'm..." She hesitated, but what was there to lose? "Hermione Granger. I simply entered this room freely. And," she hesitated once more. The last of her questions was somewhat of a challenge to answer. "I am here because I am a guest of Severus Snape." _A guest, Hermione? What are you doing- you're being ridiculous, how will that help you?_  
  
"But, I asked you first, 'who's there', so...who are you?" She kept her tone civil and kind, though any return softness was lost on her nerves and renewed curiosity.

“A guest?" she commented, uncrossing her arms and clasping her hands in front of her. "That is rather unlike him. Nevertheless, I will answer your question, it is a fair one. I am Eileen," she said simply as she nodded her head in greeting, but she was watching the young lady, measuring her every response. The girl seemed young, far younger than her son and her curiosity was piqued. Just how was it that this girl should be a guest of his anyway?

"I am surprised that you were able to enter, the room is normally warded. It is also odd that he did not come to introduce you." She searched the room, noticing that the girl was alone but for the elf. "Will he be joining us?" she asked, bringing her dark eyes to Hermione's face as though studying her. "I don't hear him in the house."

  
“ _A guest?"_ Hermione nodded in response, also bringing her own hands to her front, clasping them loosely. It would indeed be unlike Snape, if it had been true. Truth was she didn't quite know what to think about her situation. It seemed to shift so dramatically, but had it really changed all that much? She was still being held there, against her will...right?

"Nice to meet you, Eileen..." She looked down along the bottom of the frame for a name plate of some sort, but there was none. Her eyes returned to Eileen's. "I found no wards when I entered, I'm sorry." The woman had done nothing so far to aggravate Hermione, or make her think ill of her in the least. A polite response only seemed natural.

"He had to leave suddenly, I don't know where to." She tilted her head slightly, her eyes still held firmly with Eileen's. For Snape to have such a lavish room and portrait system set up for this woman...she must be important somehow. And how the woman looked was simply an unavoidable subject in Hermione's thoughts. So similar...  
  
"What is your last name?"

Eileen looked to the elf, who was visibly distraught; she wondered why he should be so unnerved, but he had always struck her as high-strung. She wondered if his disposition meant that Severus would be returning soon, and she raised her gaze to Hermione's; so polite, well-mannered it seemed- and not the sort to look away from direct eye contact. She admired that.  
  
"Snape," she answered after a few moments pause. “Eileen Snape, though Prince was my maiden name." She walked to the other side of the frame where a comfortable chaise was painted, and settled onto it, still watching Hermione. "Tell me how you have come to know Severus well enough to be in his house," she said as she motioned to a chair by the painting, positioned perfectly for conversations with her.

  
“Oh-" There was a slight pause, but her mind caught up overall rather quickly to the realization that she was speaking to what would appear to be Snape's mother. And it made sense, complete sense. Finally, something that still held logic in this new world she had been thrown into. It was like the oddest breath of fresh air Hermione had ever had.

"Miss Snape- Um, Severus' mother, I take it?" She watched Eileen seat herself, then upon the woman's invitation, sat down herself. It was true, the chair was positioned perfectly so that one could sit in it and enjoy a conversation with the painting's inhabitant.

_Eileen Snape...his mother..._ The thought of her speaking casually to her captor's mother was strange, but again she could sense no ill-will or anything else from the woman. There was nothing to keep her from conversing right then. _What all should I say? Not say?_  
  
"How I have come to know him...? I suppose...Well, I have known him since I was eleven. He used to be my Potions professor, at Hogwarts. Well, one year, he was my Dark Arts professor." Hermione wouldn't stand to let herself linger on anything concerning those days, and quickly moved on. "And, we saw quite a bit of one another at-" A troublesome thought occurred to her as she said the last. _Should I say anything about the Order?_ "At meetings, for this and that."  
  


She nodded at Hermione's question. "I am," she answered with a small smile. "He is my son, my only child. Does that surprise you?"  
  
She was surprised at how guarded Hermione seemed. The girl chose her words very carefully, more than she would have expected from one so young. "He was your teacher then. Should I assume from these meetings, that you worked together?"  
  
She leaned to the side to look around Hermione at the elf, who was beside himself. "Why don't you bring tea for the young lady, and maybe something to eat if she wishes?" The elf virtually squeaked, trying to explain the time limit and his master's eminent return in a most excited manner. "Leave that to me, just do as I ask." She wasn't short with the elf; if anything she was firm but reassuring, trying to make it see that the choice did not belong to the elf, and therefore he was not to blame.  
  


Hermione slowly drug her gaze away from Eileen and to the side at the elf. He was indeed quite beside himself, and she was completely unaware of how much time might have passed already. She had been given a thirty minute time limit before she was to return to her room, though she had never exactly intended on following the order in the first place. Despite the creature's insistent squeaking, shaking and mumbled pleas.  
  
"Oh- no no, that's alright. I don't need anything," she said in the direction of the elf, then back toward Eileen. "Really, I'm fine. But, thank you." She cleared her throat, trying to relax more. Snape's mother must have been a very decent woman, if her portrait self was an honest reflection of her past, living self. _I wonder when she died...and how._  
  
"Um," she started, going back to the woman's questions. "We worked together, yes." Hermione gave a weak smile for a few seconds. "Does the elf have a name?"

  
“His name is Virgil- or it is to me. I have never liked the childish names for them, and prefer they have something...less of a pet name." She watched the elf dancing nervously and nodded toward it. "He is a good worker, but he is always agitated, it seems."

She flicked her wrist, dismissing him; but the little elf would not leave. If anything it disturbed him more, and he went to hide within the room. "Silly thing," she said as she watched him vanish on the other side of the room.

"You are a mystery to me," she told Hermione, relaxing back onto the chaise as she leaned to rest her arm on the headrest. "It is not like him to have guests who remain while he is gone. I would certainly enjoy learning more about you- or maybe you have questions? There are a few I might answer."

The manner in which Eileen spoke was, to Hermione, quite different than the way Snape spoke. Her words were chosen wisely yet they were not harsh nor hurtful, and still any point was made and any statement clear. The tone matched the overall nature that she presented herself in. It was, if possible, inviting and indeed had the slight hint of motherhood. Hearing her voice had a somewhat similar effect on Hermione as Snape's did; soothing, captivating. It caused her mind to whirl and her muscles to slightly freeze up. With Snape, though, it was also accompanied with anxiety, nervousness, and the lack to reason. But Eileen...it was not so severe. No, not nearly so severe. This was a voice- a woman, Hermione felt she could spend long hours a day talking with. She hoped such thoughts and feelings were not far off base.

"Virgil, alright. He would not tell me his name." Another weak smile, though this time much less forced and more natural, more open. "I get the feeling that he was not expecting to leave; he left rather suddenly without much warning or words." _What would she think of me, if she knew her son was holding me prisoner here? Would she agree with his actions? What would she think if she knew we- That I..._ Hermione took a deep, calming breath and brought her hands to her lap, folding them neatly.  
  
"I would enjoy learning more about you as well, Miss...er, Eileen?" She was unsure of how the woman wanted to be addressed, though she was assuming for the time being that Eileen would suffice since she only introduced herself initially by her first name.

"How long have you been here, in a portrait?" She looked around the room once more, fully taking in all the paintings provided for Eileen. "Did your son set this whole room up for you?"

Her expression changed for an instant when Hermione told her of the way he left, and she looked away for a moment. "He is always moving, always busy." But the change was very brief, and when she looked back to Hermione her expression was the same as before.  
  
"He is indeed responsible for all this," she answered as she surveyed the room with a proud expression. "There are things that I have always wished to enjoy; in life that I did not have the pleasure of doing so. He had inherited my belongings, what there was of them, and that included my books. There are many of my favorites in these paintings; what I did not have then I do have now."

But the question was how long she had been there and she had to think on that more carefully, and she appeared to drift off for a moment. "How long," she said softly before looking to a far corner, pointing at an empty frame that sat on an easel. It was not overly large, standard portrait size; with it was a carved chair set before a background of heavy drapery; clearly older than the large paintings that lined the room. She motioned to it, encouraging Hermione to look.

"When Severus was a child, I brought him with me to have a portrait painted. He chose these clothes, this style, as I did not dress like this. Granted he was a quiet child, but when I saw his attention drawn to this dress, I knew. When I... awoke in this painting, he was still a child. Eleven, perhaps? I remember bringing him to the train station, and then waking here. That portrait was stored for many years, and I would see him often when he would come to speak with me. And now, I am here, in a room created for me. Take that as your answer."

  
Hermione followed the invitation, and turned to look at the other painting that Eileen had motioned toward. Indeed older, but an obvious amount of care had been given to it. _Eleven years old? What happened?_ She returned to her relaxed position in the chair, letting her eyes roam more over the various books in the painting in front of her before looking back up to Eileen's face.

"It would seem he takes very good care of this room, and your paintings. He must care dearly..." Her voice trailed off, and she began to bite at her lower lip. Where were her boundaries? What would be considered going too far? Her hands had come unfolded, her fingers unconsciously fiddling at the tails of Snape's shirt, which she had forgotten she was wearing. There, in front of his mother of all things, but her mind was hardly on such a matter.  
  
"What happened?"  
  


She nodded, watching the younger lady toy with the hemmed edge of her shirt- no, his shirt. It was far too big for her, and the style was of the sort she had often witnessed him wearing. A slight smile, as she ran through the implications in her mind.

"You are surprised?" she asked, leaning back slightly. "He values his privacy, and fiercely defends those things which he considers to be his, don't you know this?"   
  
But she asked a legitimate question, and the smile faded as she thought it through, brushing her skirt as she did. "Perhaps we might discuss that at another time," she said as she turned to Hermione with an almost sad smile. "I will tell you that it was not an accident, but as I don't know you well enough to reveal certain personal memories, I cannot continue. Surely you understand?"  
  


“No, not surprised. And yes, I do know that..." She let the words echo in her mind. _"He values his privacy, and fiercely defends those things which he considers to be his, don't you know this?"_ She felt that she knew this rather well by then, though she was not going to be so naive as to think she had seen the worst of it. Instead of replying any more, she remained quiet and waited as Eileen answered her question.

"Of course I understand. I'm sorry if I offended." Again, she offered a smile. They were gradually becoming less and less weak. She was enjoying her conversation with Snape's mother, and hoped she would get the chance to speak to the woman again at some point.  
  
Hermione took the pause as a chance to think things over some more. It finally occurred to her that she has seen nothing of Snape's father. No trinkets, no paintings...nothing. She swallowed, toying the words around trying to decide if she wanted to push further than she already had or not.  
  
"So, he visits you often?" She had decided against a second probing question, for now.  
  


“You did not offend," she replied softly. "It involves his past, and since he has not told you, I should not reveal it either. I have a suspicion that you may learn it eventually." She tugged playfully on the edges of her sleeve, where her shirt cuffs were visible as she nodded toward Hermione, looking at her shirt and offering a somewhat subtle hint that she recognized it. "I expect that it may not be long."

_"So, he visits you often?"_  
  
"Often," she agreed, nodding her head. "Normally once a day, more if he feels like it or is able. It is a comfortable room, is it not?" she asked, motioning to the furniture that surrounded them. "Sometimes I only listen while he speaks, and sometimes we read; the quiet in the room is conducive to it. Occasionally we discuss his work, and at other times we discuss...other things. He sits in that very chair, when we have long conversations about many things."

She found this young lady easy to speak with; it was not difficult to understand what her son may have seen in her, as she appeared to be a clever young witch.

Hermione picked up the hint instantly, a soft pink spreading across her cheeks as she became conscious of the shirt hem she had been fiddling with, remembering that the shirt was his. So, she had noticed. _Of course she'd notice, it's his mother. But she doesn't seem upset or put off by it..._

She renewed her smile, though there was an obvious level of embarrassment showing through. She was, for all the pain and emotional strain she had been through, finding herself enjoying Snape. It was becoming more than just the paralyzing touches, mind-numbing voice and words. It was who he was, his talents she had always respected and looked up to. The way he held himself and reacted to situations with purpose, an exact goal planned out completely in his mind. And it was their shared interests, and all that he could teach and show her. She hated being controlled, and yet, under his hand she seemed to bend all too much to his will. She wanted to explore such odd feelings, but in due time she as well would need a level of respect in return. Was that something he would ever be willing to give her?  
  
"It _is_ a comfortable room, you're right. So many books..." Hermione looked about the shelves once more, happily accepting the chance to look away from Eileen, to hide her blush in some fashion. "I would love the chance to read some of them," she mused softly, her childlike curiosity winning over her embarrassment for the time being.  
  
Behind her, somewhere in the room, the elf squeaked and let out a nervous whine.


	11. Eleven

“Perhaps I should speak with him on your behalf? Request that he allow you to spend time in here?" Eileen asked, without a thought beyond the idea that she might have a reason to avoid such a request. The house elf distracted her however, and she looked away from Hermione to search the room for the frightened creature. "My goodness, he is agitated today. One might think that he has done something wrong," she commented as she stood, her hands clasped before her once more. "Virgil! Come forth, what is bothering you?"  
  
He stepped out quietly, mumbling something about the master being home soon, and other things she could barely understand. "If he returns, direct him here to us. I don't see what the fuss is about, I really don't." She looked to Hermione; the girl had entered with the elf, perhaps she understood what his sudden outburst was about.

  
Hermione snapped her head forward, leaving off admiring the books so that she may look up and meet eyes with Eileen once again. _Request that he allow me to spend time in here? But-_ Her thoughts were cut off with Virgil's constant pleads, whines and nervous squeaks. _He's on his way, I bet._

Hermione's body began to tense, her expression falling back into one of defense. "He had instructed that I return to my...room, within thirty minutes of him leaving. I think what Virgil is trying to tell us, is that the time limit I was given is running out, and instead of returning to _my room_ , I am in here having an enjoyable conversation with you." The smile she offered that time was neither genuine nor weak; more sad and defeated, if anything. Still, Hermione offered it for whatever reason may be.  
  
A shiver washed down her body as she felt wards being lowered. It was done and over in no time; Hermione had no chance of using such a small window of escape. The tips of her fingers pressed and dug into the tops of her thighs as she sat straight-backed and wary, waiting for what might be coming soon.  
  
"Eileen," Hermione began, her voice weakening noticeably, "I like your company. I would love to have more chats with you in the future. Hopefully, I can learn things about him...things he feels that he cannot reveal or open up to share with me."

  
“Your room?" she asked as her attention was drawn to the elf, who was beside himself as he cowered, backing away from the door as he watched for something in the hallway. Clearly there was more to this situation than she knew, although she had her suspicions. She would speak with her son and soon; she may have told the girl too much already.

A loud pop and heavy footfalls in the hallway announced his return, though it appeared that he had entered his room first. Eileen's attention was brought back to the young lady whose demeanor seemed to have changed drastically in the last few moments. "Perhaps we might, but I don't understand..."  
  
"You need not understand," came the answer from the doorway; she turned to find her son standing there, his face pale and his eyes narrowed. She knew this look, understood this mood. "Severus, what is going on?" she asked quietly moving to the center of the frame as she watched him carefully, occasionally glancing back at Hermione.  
  
"I believe I had instructed you to be in your room, and this most certainly is not your room, is it?" he hissed to the younger girl, disregarding Eileen's question as he spared a furious look for the elf who was incredibly cowed, almost doubled over. "What have you told her?" he asked Hermione as he approached to pull her from the chair. "What have you done?"

  
Hermione had neither the time nor nerves to answer anything further Eileen asked of her. She continued to sit rigid, frozen, blankly staring ahead at the corner of the painting she was facing. Even the footsteps did not jar her out of her steady position. It was his voice that finally broke her concentration on remaining calm or still. Her shoulders jerked, and her fingers fisted in the material of his shirt that lay on the tops of her thighs.

"No, it is not my room," she answered evenly. Her muscles tensed over and over as he approached her, and she knew what would follow once he got to her. She finally tore her eyes from the corner of the painting up to Snape's.

"I have been having a delightful conversation with your mother, Eileen." She did not glance back at Eileen, because it was the truth. The conversation had indeed been delightful, just as Hermione had told the other woman it had been.

He froze, the effect of hearing those words being as having been struck, halting before his hand even reached her. "You know her name?" he said quietly as he glanced over at the painting before looking at her once more. "I find myself particularly interested in the nature of that conversation."

  
Eileen glanced between the two, now puzzled and rather disturbed by the dynamic between the two; this was not quite what she had expected. "We did not discuss you, if that is your concern. Your privacy remains yours, Severus."

  
"She should not have been here," he snarled, not looking at the painting, but keeping his dark eyes on Hermione. "We will discuss this later, but for now I think I should have a conversation with this young lady.” Having recovered, he took her arm- though perhaps a bit less aggressively than he had intended earlier. "I believe Hermione has some things she would tell me, am I correct?"

  
She nodded softly in response to his first question, but remained completely still other than that, staring straight back at him. As she was brought up from her seat, she gave an apologetic look over her shoulder at Eileen. She'd have liked to say 'I didn't mean any harm', but it would not have been entirely honest. She had known it would mean trouble, for all parties involved. Still, she had allowed herself a moment of selfishness. Her eyes returned to his, her determination and resolve beginning to falter under his mind-numbing touch.

"Correct," Hermione answered, letting herself be led from the chair and painting.

He knew Eileen would watch until she could no longer see them, and he knew that he would need to go speak with her later; but for now he would deal with Hermione first.

He led without a word, opening the entrance door to her room before entering with her. "Wait here," he growled to the elf as he released Hermione and closed the door. "Did you enjoy your visit?" he asked as he turned to face her, crossing his arms tightly. "Do you believe you were being clever?"

“Clever? It hardly takes much effort to enter a room without wards up, and speak with a portrait." Hermione turned to face him, the back of her knees almost brushing against the bed, but she steadied herself and took a step forward.

"As for enjoying my visit, yes, I did. I believe I already said it was an enjoyable conversation. She is a lovely woman." She crossed her arms as well, taking a breath before continuing.

"What happened? She told me the last thing she remembered was taking you to the train station, and then...she woke up in that painting you two had-" Her words caught in her throat as she noticed his expression darkening the more she said. "She told me it was no accident...But she would not tell me anything else, as that would compromise your privacy."

“Of that I have no doubt," he replied, not moving from his position at the door. "I'll not share the details of her end; it is enough that it has been resolved and the guilty party has been... punished.”

He uncrossed his arms as he stepped forward, "It is also enough that you know more than you should. You did not do as I asked, and you did it deliberately. You invaded my privacy, what do you believe should happen now?"

He walked slowly to stand directly before her, watching her every expression. "I believe I wish to know what was discussed, and I do not care to take your word for it. Show me," he told her as he prepared to use Legilimency, to witness her memories directly.

At first, Hermione turned her face from his as he approached, but his voice was overpowering, and she returned to his eyes steadily. _No, he would see it at some point or another. Not just what we said verbally. He will see the blush, the interest in him._ Though the thought was terribly embarrassing, she swallowed her pride and readied her mind for his invasion.  
  
Her hands lifted as he approached, placing them on his sides at the hips once he was directly in front of her. Barely close enough to be able to press against her. In one fluid motion, she seated herself on the end of the bed behind her, still holding on to Snape's sides. The act had caused the other to follow suit, leaning over her small frame perched at the end of her bed.  
  
"Look all you want." Her voice nearly weak in tone, but she was quite aware of what she was doing- or attempting to do.

He took her face into his hands and kept her attention on him, and none too gently either. He would see, he wanted to know, and with no further warning he searched.  
  
He saw his mother revealing her identity, and a brief history; Hermione gingerly taking a seat before her. The house elf, particularly antsy, and once again Hermione, toying with her shirt- his shirt. His mother noticing, making a coy reference to it; the mutual interest in what appeared to be no more than a casual conversation. Through it all there was an overriding feeling of curiosity, and...something more, really.   
  
_"I like your company. I would love to have more chats with you in the future. Hopefully, I can learn things about him...things he feels that he cannot reveal or open up to share with me."_  
  
He released her suddenly, taking a step back, a momentary look of surprise on his face before he regained himself. "So...you would use her to discover a weakness, would you? Tell her lies, convince her to trust you so you might betray her confidence, betray me?"

He grabbed her jaw tightly, pulling her to him, "She would not fall for it. My mother was Slytherin as well, she is no fool, and she would not betray me. Not for you, not for another. Do you understand?" He released her, but his expression did not lighten in the least.

She tensed against the strain he put on her mind, but let her memories flow freely at his demand. Her hands fell from his hips when he released her initially, jerking her attentions back to the present. Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but he was back upon her in an instant. This time his grip on her face was painful, causing her to wince openly as she was pulled forward. She decided to obey his non-verbal command, and stood back on her feet in front of him.  
  
Her expression flashed that of confusion, then of indignation. It was her natural reaction to being accused of something so underhanded and conniving. Though, it did make complete sense given the situation they were in. Once she realized this she sighed and crossed her arms again, though they were standing so close she ended up brushing against him with more force than intended.  
  
"Sorry to disappoint, but my intention was _not_ betrayal, on anyone’s part. Not mine, and certainly not hers." Her tone was slightly aggravated, and she hoped that through his anger, he could see she was telling the truth. "What _lies_ did I say to her? I was unaware of any lies myself, but maybe you would know more than I about that."

He released her, slowly dropping his hand from her face. "What lies? You feigned interest in me to try to coerce her to feed you information. That, Miss Granger, constitutes a lie." It was a nice try on her part, though; he couldn't truly say he wouldn't have made the attempt either.   
  
He brought his hands up to her elbows, holding her in place so she would not flee, or at least so he might have a bit of control over her arms should she try anything. "Or will you attempt to convince me otherwise?"

Hermione swallowed, her glare remaining steady and firm. Was he toying with her yet again? She could not decide, as his initial reaction had revealed his honest feelings on the matter she felt. It was times like that, where she found herself wishing she was better at Legilimency. But her emotions ran too close beneath the surface, and she could never completely bring a full attack without opening her mind as well. She knew it would never work against someone like Snape. Maybe, if she had the time and opportunity to practice, but she had neither.  
  
"After last night," she began, her tone deep and bitter, "I would think that was obvious, or did my having that wine cause you to doubt my true desires?" She took a step forward without warning. They were toe to toe, but she did not lean back to give way to his personal space in the least.

"Will I attempt to convince you otherwise- rather, _will you allow it?_ "

He stared at her for a long moment, weighing her words very carefully. Allow her to convince him? Would she even be able to, or would he allow it after all?   
  
"Thus far the trust I have given you has been misplaced. I ask simple things, and yet they are disregarded. Admittedly, you have not tried to kill me as of late, but I expect you are trying to encourage me to relax my guard."

He pulled her to him for a demanding kiss, his hand tangling in her hair as he held her, holding her tightly enough to him to try to prevent her from being able to move her arms.  
  
"You are asking me to trust you?" he whispered against her ear, brushing her face with his cheek as he drew away. "You ask too much." He released her quickly, pushing her a step away.

The kiss did not surprise her, nor did his release. In fact, Hermione felt he did that all too often. He would push, only to retract himself quickly, as if he was trying to say 'I control everything.' And he probably was, she thought.  
  
Once she had steadied herself, she took the step forward again, once more closing the space between them, her actions openly defiant.  
  
"If trust has been misplaced, it would be to no fault but your own. But tell me," her voice picking up in tone slightly with the new direction she decided to take the conversation, "why is it you pull me so close, so tight..." She tilted her head and leaned upward towards his face, holding eye contact if a bit shakily. "...only to release me, and push me away? Why are you afraid?" His eyes became a blur as she moved closer still.

“I am not afraid," he answered as she moved close, very close; he fought the urge to push her away again if only to prove a point. "It would seem that you wish something I am not willing to give so easily. Do you believe I would fear a slip of a girl?"

He lifted his chin to gaze down at her, putting a small amount of distance between them to see her better. "The question I would actually desire answered is this; how is misplaced trust my fault? I ask something of you, and you do not follow through. How does that become my error in judgment, beyond giving you a reasonable opportunity?" No doubt she had a reasonable answer, but he would hear it from her.

“No." Hermione continued to tilt her head, lining up a kiss if she was given the chance to do so. Her right hand came down from her chest to his. Slowly, she began rubbing the material of his coat against the palm of her hand, her left following suit. "If it is your trust we are talking about, then yes, I would definitely see that as being _your fault_ if it was misplaced. But...I have yet to see or understand how I have managed to make you feel this way."

In a swift though not so fluid motion, both her hands slid up to either sides of his face, this time pulling _him_ to _her_. The distance between them had not been very much to begin with, so it took hardly any effort.

Hermione kissed him; this time _she_ was the aggressor. The interest in Snape she had shown Eileen was genuine and quite sincere. Hermione could not stand feeling that way towards such a man, but there was simply no denying it. Especially after the previous night. There was a growing urge to have a repeat of the other night, only without the wine, and in his quarters instead of hers. The wounds he left on her were unhealed still, causing her slight irritation while moving about. Her clothing would catch on them, rub roughly across them. But she still did not regret a single second of it. To put it simply; Hermione Granger was, if anything, rapidly becoming infatuated with the older man.  
  
She broke the kiss slightly, only to give him a look of expectation or curiosity. "Will you shy away from that? From me, again? Will you continue to be afraid of another human being? I was told cowardice is one of your traits, but I'm not completely convinced of that myself."

He allowed it because, quite frankly, he wanted it. It would be a lie for him to say that he didn't, and while he was not above lying to another, he didn't care to lie to himself. He knew what this was- an attempt at manipulation, albeit a pleasant one.  
  
Until she spoke again.  
  
"I am no coward," he hissed, pulling her to him very tightly, "and I am not afraid. What is it you imagine, changing me, taming me? Do you see yourself bringing me to obedience at your hand?" He brought one hand to her face, gently brushing her hair to the side; a kind action that was in complete contrast with his words. "This is no game, I thought you understood this." He stepped forward, pushing her back until the resistance of the bed was met. "It will be as I say, there is no other way."

There were so many things she wanted to say in response, but they would not form quickly enough on her lips before he was rushing past one thought to another. She had not needed any wine to have allowed or welcomed the previous night, though it continued to cause terrible confusion for her.

Hermione opened her mouth to protest the idiotic idea of 'taming' him, bringing him 'to obedience' at her hand, as he put it. But his actions made her lungs freeze. The soft touch that he seemed to grace her with every so often caused a much more dramatic reaction than his usual paralyzing touch, which was more than not harsh and rushed. But those...Those unique moments where he showed some glint of caring, they just threw her in a complete spin, not knowing which way was up anymore.  
  
But the euphoria was cut short by more of his rough and demanding actions that despite herself, Hermione could not help but enjoy as well. It was simply on a completely different level than those softer moments. She flinched momentarily as the back of her legs connected with the bed again, and yet he kept on pushing. With a breathy voice, she finally managed to form words for him.  
  
"I would never entertain such a thought- _taming...bringing you to obedience._ " Hermione let her lungs release fully, her breath dancing across his cheek and through his dark hair. "No game. I do understand."

She had lowered her hands back to his chest, but the resistance was too great, causing her to lower them to his hips again. In the back of her mind, she remained aware of any chances she was presented at getting a hold of his wand. But it would be quite the long shot, even if it had been right there in a side pocket for her to pluck out at will.  
  
"It will be as you say," she repeated, nodding her head softly against his. How long would it take him to understand? How long would it take _her_ to understand? She was quickly coming to terms with her situation, and though she rationalized it with excuses of life or death, the truth was she had found a sick and twisted side that she was unwilling to let go of.

“Correct answer," he told her as he kissed her once more; again demanding, but not violent this time. "You are learning." The feel of her hands on his hips, her compliance; perhaps there was hope for the girl yet. He remained wary, however. This one was not the sort he could relax around- not that he let his guard down in the greatest majority of situations, but he would be extra cautious around her.   
  
He pushed her back until she lay on the bed beneath him, and he released the kiss as he looked at her; still so naive. "I thought you might have been interested in the result of the meeting I just had with the Dark Lord and one Lucius Malfoy." He lifted a hand to toy with a strand of hair at her cheek, a wry smile on his face as he watched for her reaction. "I suppose that we might discuss it later. You may take dinner here if you prefer, but I will speak with you again before the night is out."   
  
He released her and stood, taking a few steps back as he adjusted his robes. "I will send the elf to tend to you," he said before turning and walking to the door. "If there is nothing else?" He turned toward her, his fingertips resting on the doorknob; he was feeling particularly generous in allowing her the opportunity for a question or two. He expected an inquiry into the elf, or dinner, or perhaps permission to speak with Eileen again... and he would need to speak with her directly.  
  


Hermione gave him no resistance; if anything she was ushering him on. Her middle still ached slightly, which was made a bit worse with the added pressure of him on top of her. She did not react, however. After all, she _did_ refuse the help he offered her that morning for the pain. Instead, she pressed the ends of her fingers into his sides, softly pulling at him.  
  
Her eyes as well as her mind had amazingly cleared at the mention of Voldemort, and Malfoy. _That's why he left so suddenly._ Her stomach twisted horribly, even as he once again gifted her with a soft touch to her hair and cheek. As much as he had put her through, she could honestly see how better off she was with him, than with the Malfoys.

She slowly sat up as he removed himself from her and the bed, drawing her legs up underneath her, both hands now lightly gripping the covers of the bed on either side of her knees. She watched him intently, keeping her mouth closed until he was finished. Again, that terrible, screaming desire to beg him to stay arose inside of her. But she fought it; there were more important matters to her than him leaving her in her room for a bit.  
  
 _"If there is nothing else?"_  
  
"That's why you left like that. Voldemort called? And...Malfoy was there?"

He smiled, dark and ominous as it might have been to see. "Very good, you were paying attention." He twisted the doorknob and opened the door slightly as he moved to gaze into the hallway, checking to see if the elf was nearby.

"Make yourself comfortable, Miss Granger. You will be here for a long time." He looked back at her as he snapped his fingers to summon the shivering little elf, grabbing the creature's hands as he appeared. He examined them carefully before releasing them and motioning to Hermione. "Tend to her. She may take dinner here or upstairs; beyond that she remains for now." With that he swept from the room, closing the door firmly behind him.  
  
The elf turned to her and offered a nervous smile. "I is not allowed to take punishment. Master says it affects my service," he said shyly before moving to tend to her.

She had raised up on her knees, calling out asking him to wait, but he either did not hear her, or chose to ignore the plea. She sighed, feeling rather irritated at how cruel he was being, but that was nothing new. When the elf spoke, Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath, attempting to calm down.  
  
"As you shouldn't." She looked down at him as he approached her. "You should not punish yourself. No elf should." His expression twisted with confusion at her words, which she had expected.

"Virgil," she began, rubbing her right temple softly, "I'm sorry for causing you trouble." When she looked back at him, he was wincing and rubbing his hands roughly. With another sigh, she shook her head and relaxed back onto her knees, feet and legs still under her. "Never mind."  
  
 _"What will the M-miss be needing? I am here to-"_  
  
"No, Virgil. I don't need anything. Please, I'm fine. Okay?" Hermione gave him a fake smile, and after much shifting from foot to foot, he backed away and was gone. She was sure he would return, or that he had not completely left at all.

After a few minutes of silence, and her worrying at her bottom lip, she slipped off of the bed to retrieve one of the books she had plucked from the house earlier. She climbed back onto the bed to begin reading, resting her back against the many pillows and plush furnishings that lined the headboard now, with her knees resting to one side and her feet once more tucked beneath her gently.


	12. Twelve

“Mother, you don't understand," he said with a resigned tone as he collapsed into the chair beside the painting, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I know what was discussed, I know that nothing untoward was spoken; no secrets revealed. I cannot allow her to wander unaccompanied." 

  
"Severus, she had the elf with her." Eileen took a seat on the chaise, her hands flat in her lap as she watched him, concerned but unable to do anything for him beyond listening. "She did not even search the room, knowing that I would be unable to stop her. She sat quietly in that chair and spoke very politely." He remained too silent in her opinion, though he had always had his quiet, brooding moments. "Severus what is the truth?" she asked quietly, tilting her head as she waited for his answer.

  
  
He sighed as he leaned back, pursing his lips as he looked at her, hating the fact that she wanted truth and he could only offer a limited version of it. "She is my charge, and I have been instructed to keep her. I have done so, and I have earned the ire of an old friend in the process." And how odd it was that he would do that. Ordinarily they would negotiate, and whatever deal was best for him, he would do. This time he found that he was upset by the suggestion from the start; spoiled by wealth and privilege, that boy had his own business to tend to. 

  
"But there's more, isn't there?" she asked quietly, breaking the lengthy silence that had fallen between them. She noticed his demeanor, observing him closely. "You have always done what is most prudent for you, son. What makes this different? What is it about this girl, Severus?" She leaned forward, as though it would narrow the space between them, "Why was she wearing your shirt?" She hoped to trigger some sort of honesty from him.

  
He leaned to the side, tapping his lip with a long finger as he considered her question. What was it indeed? "She cannot be harmed," he offered softly, remembering their previous evening and her reason for that very question. "She wore it because...I gave it to her." He looked to the woman in the painting, knowing that she would understand. "Yes, I did. I realize that I am not a generous man, nor am I patient or considerate, but..." He shrugged, letting the statement drift off.

“Oh. I see," Eileen said as she sat back, her mind working furiously over the revelation. _"He has soft feelings for her,"_ she thought, lowering her eyes from his as she smiled. "Consensual?" she asked, hating that she even had to ask such a thing, but she knew what he did when he left that house, and what might be required of him. "Was it for work, or for personal reasons?"

  
He scowled as he shot her an irritated look, "Of course there was mutual consent. Had I not needed it, I would have done it far sooner. No, she consented, and it would have been better for my work had I not. She would have retained her innocence."

Eileen schooled her face to neutrality, though she wanted to smile- even laugh for joy. "Well then, my son. I would suggest that you consider allowing her to speak to me, if you do not trust her still."

She knew better, from his confession there was at least some level of trust; he would never do such a thing unless there was. "I will guide her, and you may do your work. I would enjoy the company, and I would bet she would as well. What do you say, Severus?"

He stared for a long moment before leaning forward, his head in his hands as he thought it over. "I don't care for it, but I will allow it." He looked to his mother, a very determined expression on his face. "Should my trust be betrayed, or should she do something to compromise you, I will lock her away until she is summoned."

Eileen was careful to keep the pity from her face, but it leaked through the tone of her voice. "Should you have a reason to worry, I would tell you, my son."

He nodded, standing and placing a hand against the painting on the wall, flat, where her hand was now raised to touch his- were it possible. "Until I have a reason otherwise, Mother. I shall return to speak with you soon."

She nodded and settled onto her chaise, lifting her previously discarded book and pretended to read as she watched him leave. _"He fools himself,"_ she thought as she hid her face in her book to think things through.

Outside of the room, Severus' attention was drawn to the small elf who appeared by his side. "Bring her to dinner," he snarled. "She may attend or she remains in her room. Remember that." He shot the elf a dark look before retiring to his room to gather himself before dinner; he had much to think about.

Hermione looked up from the book once the elf showed up beside the bed. He was just as nervous as before, and the way he held himself suggested that he was expecting her to get out of bed or move in some way. She closed the book quickly to hide its cover, even though he had seen her take it from the house and hide it. If Snape asked, he surely would tell, and that would be that. With the book secured between mattresses once again, she swung her feet off the edge of the bed and addressed the creature finally.  
  
 _"Master would be having y-your company for dinner, if Miss desires. I-if not, Miss shall-"_  
  
"If not, I shall stay here, I know." She sat for a bit, considering her options. While she had a nagging desire to deny the company, she also was not one for pouting or sulking around. And, there was information she desperately wanted to find out. With a determined nod to herself, she stood from the bed and smoothed out her clothes. The elf turned and went to the wardrobe, opening it for her to choose something to wear, but she shook her head.

"No, I will be going just as I am." Virgil made a small whining noise at her statement, but closed the wardrobe and approached the door to the room instead of protesting. Hermione moved to stand behind him, holding out her wrists like she had done the previous night. But he shook his head nervously and simply tapped the doorknob. _"Follow me, Miss, if you is wanting to attend..."_  
  
They made their way through the house silently. Hermione paused outside the door to Eileen's room. She wanted to try opening it, but quickly changed her mind. Virgil's reaction only helped her to move on and keep walking. They entered the dining room, and to her surprise Snape was not already seated and waiting. The elf motioned her to the table and she followed, seating herself. He backed away and waited for his master to join them, watching over Hermione until then.

He could hear them walk down the hallway, as he had left the door to his room open slightly. They were early, and he was somewhat prepared; his mother had made a valid point. She could speak with the girl, perhaps encourage her. The woman had been a Slytherin, she knew the value of persuasion, and she understood the situation- at least as best as he could explain it to her. A valuable asset, and one worth keeping.   
  
Without any further delay he rose and left his room, walking purposefully into the dining room. He remained silent until he reached the head of the table, placing one hand upon its surface and turning to the elf. "You will begin immediately," he told the creature, motioning for him to leave before taking his seat.

"I am certain you are brimming with questions as usual, Miss Granger. I will give you the information that I deem most pressing to you, and then I will answer what questions I wish to answer." There were settings upon the table already, and he lifted a glass of water to take a leisurely drink, allowing her to anticipate, to wait on him.

"As I told you earlier, I had a meeting regarding you, Miss Granger," he told her as he set the glass down, tracing the rim with his finger. "Lucius is most anxious to acquire you, and feels that you have spent far too much time in my presence. He felt strongly enough to disturb the Dark Lord with this matter, and I dare say he was not well pleased." He took another sip from his glass before placing it on the table once again, but this time he did not toy with it. Instead he steepled his fingers as he leaned forward on the table, watching her for every reaction to his words.  
  
"The discussion was rather heated, and you should know that he did put forth a persuasive argument. Had it involved any other man it may have worked; fortunately for you I have enough wit to counter his logic. You should know the Dark Lord has decided, and you will remain with me until I grow weary of you. Your fate then will be decided by me, and the only one who can alter this arrangement is his Lordship."  
  
He leaned back in his chair, looking to the glass once more as he relaxed, tapping the arm of the chair with his fingertips. "He was not entirely pleased that I wished to keep a Muggleborn witch, but even Lucius had to concede your above average intellect and magical abilities. With a few well-placed words, your potion making abilities were forefront, and as such your fate was secured. The Malfoys may have many talents, but potion making is not the strongest of them. You are now, officially, my charge until such a time as I choose otherwise. Do act accordingly." On the last words he lifted his glass and drank the rest of the water, watching her as he set the glass on the table. "Questions?" he challenged, raising an eyebrow; he'd be surprised if there weren't any.

  
She listened silently, watching his eyes the entire time. She worked very hard at keeping her expression neutral and calm, but the occasional frown or eyebrow raise was unavoidable. The phrase 'until I grow weary of you' itched at her something awful. She wanted to snap something back, but was not sure what.

Hermione did not like the situation. The possibility of him growing weary of her, her fate being decided by him, and even worse was if Voldemort changed his mind for whatever reason. Her friends were still out there, and she needed to ensure her continued survival. Such a thing being at the mercy of his, or anyone’s whim was indescribable.

"Why exactly does Malfoy want me?" She ignored the water, not moving a single inch until she could have her answers.

  
“Make no mistake, Lucius does not care what happens to you," he sneered, amused by calmness. "His son wishes to possess you, and his father will do what he can to ensure the boy gets what he wants. Fortunately, Draco has disappointed the Dark Lord in the past, and he is not as inclined to grant such a wish as he might have been. As for his purpose for you, surely you might imagine it."

He tapped the chair absently as he waited for yet another question, tempted to use Legilimency to discover just what she might be feeling. "I have ensured that your fate lies partly in your own hands, girl. One might believe that would be a somewhat comforting thought."

  
Hermione had known it was Draco who wished to _possess_ her, but she was still unsure as to why that was. She was very nearly about to inquire on the matter further when Snape added more on her fate, and it being partly in her own hands. This caused her to slightly reposition herself in her seat, feeling anxious and curious.

"Have you? I thought you said..." Her voice trailed off, hoping he would further explain. The elf returned with the evening's meal during the brief silence, but Hermione ignored the food and water still.

  
He waited to continue until the elf departed; the fact that she was touching nothing was not lost on him. He would not force her to eat, however; it was entirely her choice.

"Use your head, girl. I said your fate lies ultimately with me, which means that your actions alone will dictate what happens to you. Granted it has been some time since you have attempted to harm me, and if you would care to notice you have not received harsh treatment as a result."

He lifted his fork and began to eat, deciding he would not wait on her. To do so might be all night, and he was not in the mood to be overly accommodating in that way.  
  
"Consider the fact that you were in a room where you were not to be when I arrived earlier. Recall that you have not been punished for the transgression." He raised his eyes to watch her as he paused, "You may thank her for it."  
  


She gave a small nod though the situation continued to sit rather uneasily with her. Hermione might very well have had some control over her fate, but the fact that it ultimately rested with him would never settle well with her. The fact that he continued to toy with her, never letting her know what he honestly thought of the situation between them was of no help. She did not want to develop feelings for the man, but with the way things were going she found that she could no longer predict so much as when she would be able to sleep or bathe, and the same certainly went for her emotions.  
  
His last statement caught her attention drastically. "Are you saying I will be able to speak with Eileen again?" She perked up a bit, resting one of her hands over the handle of her fork. Hermione planned to eat, but only once she was given the answers she desired.

  
His grip on the fork tightened slightly, unaccustomed as he was to hearing another address his mother so informally. "Yes," he answered curtly, taking a few moments to eat before continuing. "Do not make the mistake of believing you will be able to search the room in its entirety, but it would appear that she enjoyed your company." It almost burned to admit it.

"I will allow you to spend some time in that study, and access to certain shelves and books to read. She will respect my privacy, do not believe that she will betray me," he said without looking at Hermione. "I expect you to forgo the attempts upon my person and all escape efforts, as I will tell you that my protection of you does not extend to unaccompanied wanderings. Should you manage to slip away, and should Lucius or Draco find you, I will not be able to assist you." The last part was accompanied by a dark look, "Escape does not indicate the desire to remain protected, after all."

  
Hermione was unable to hide the surprise in her eyes and facial expression. She was quite glad that she would get the chance to speak with Eileen again, and the open access to some of the books was more than she had expected or hoped for. But it was what he spoke of secondly that held her frozen, even the dark glare he gave could not break it. _Protection..._

The situation has suddenly been tilted drastically. Hearing such words from him made her insides twist and turn, that odd sensation of the air not reaching her skin returning. Why did that make sense? She thought surely she must be losing her mind finally.  
  
"Yes," she offered weakly. Her hand lifted from the fork to pick up the glass of water in front of her she had neglected until then. It was a welcome excuse to look away, as she took a swallow or two before returning the drink to the table. She finally took a look around the table at the food, but she found that any appetite she may have had was long gone.  
  
"What about my friends?"

  
“Your friends are not my concern," he replied quietly. "The order stands, but I have other projects to occupy my time. I have already missed the opportunity to take them, as I had known where they were meeting. Oddly enough, they do not meet in that location any longer."

He let that suffice as his answer for now; let her assume what she would from it. He wouldn't disobey the Dark Lord; it was a direct order; but if he was not as available to hunt them, then there was a limit to his responsibility.

  
She watched him for a while, occasionally taking sips at her water or looking over the food casually. Her stomach was still in knots and flutters, but she did not wish to offend or waste, so she picked a few small amounts of food near her and ate what she could. Once done, she set her fork down on the edge of the plate and folded up the napkin she had laid in her lap, setting it neatly to the side of her plate. The glass of water had been drained, but when she looked it was full again. After washing down what she could manage of the food, Hermione sighed and sat back a little in her chair, finally returning her eyes to Snape's.

After a silent moment between the two, Hermione stood from her chair, as if readying herself to be excused, and offered the man a slight nod.  
  
"Thank you." Her words were sincere. She was...honestly thankful. She wondered if this would be it for the night, or if they would be able to talk more elsewhere. Maybe she would get a chance to talk to Eileen again before the day was over? Or, maybe he would invite her to his chambers. Hermione stood, unsure of what she should do or say next. Her eyes lifted to his slowly. "And, I'm sorry."

  
“My room will be warded against you, as will select others," he told her as he returned his attention to the remainder of his dinner, not acknowledging her apology. "You will not wander while I sleep, and the elf will keep his attention on you. I will continue to expect compliance."

He said no more, but it was clear that she was free to leave if she so chose. His discussion of the subject- this particular one at any rate, was finished for the time being.  
  


Hermione continued to stand by the table, not quite sure about what she should do next. He seemed to be a tad more distant than usual. It was nothing surprising, just bothersome. It was hard enough to converse with the man as it were. She glanced down at the elf, then back to Snape.  
  
"It wasn't his fault, you know. Virgil's." She motioned down at the creature, who shied away slightly at the indication toward him. "So please don't punish him, or be harsh with him."

He cut his eyes toward the cowering elf before setting his fork down. With a sharp exhale he pushed away from the table and stood slowly, keeping his fingertips on the table as he did so.

"Is there anything else you would care to offer in the way of instruction, Miss Granger?" he asked, offering her a black look before turning to sweep out of the room, making a short trip down the hall to the lounge. In the corner was a table with a small selection of liquors, including brandy; he poured a small amount in a snifter before taking a seat in a large, heavily padded chair. Let the elf tell him that he needn't punish him, that the elf suffered a guilty enough mind; that inflicting harm interfered with an elf's ability to work, and therefore never made sense to Severus.   
  
Or let her have a drink, visit the study, whatever she wished. He didn't feel like explaining any further, though it was not her company that he wished to avoid. Simply some of the questions.


	13. Thirteen

“It was a request," she called out calmly as he stalked away down the hall. After pausing for a moment, waiting for him to settle himself, Hermione followed and entered the lounge as well. She looked to the bottles of liquor, but after the previous night she did not feel like stomaching such a thing so soon. Though with the way he was being, it would certainly help take the edge off. The elf shuffled in behind her, staying near the doorway and out of sight mostly.  
  
"Am I to make any potions still? Will you be teaching me anything new?"  
  


He swirled the brandy in the glass, having half expected that she would follow. "I do not injure my servants or cohorts, Miss Granger. That is counterproductive; only enemies, those who wish me ill or dead." He drank the remainder in his glass before setting it aside, standing to face her. He was tired this night, and the telltale signs may have begun to show in his stance, his face.  
  
"If you wish to work with me, you will do as I tell you; what I teach you will depend greatly upon your attitude. I could use an assistant, but I would prefer one that did not wish me to be deceased," he said, giving her a pointed look. She was clever, she could sort that statement out herself.

Hermione walked further into the room, listening as he answered her questions. Well, in a fashion. She approached him, and slowly placed the palm of her right hand on his chest directly above his heart. At the same time, she pulled in closer to him. Though she wanted to go roam with her new found freedom, she could not walk away just yet. Her other arm reached out to his hip, where she placed her hand and pulled herself even closer yet.  
  
"I have told you before; I do not wish to kill you. Certainly not now, after all that we- After what you said..." She paused to look up into his eyes. He looked quite tired and weary. The hand on his chest slowly began to creep up to his shoulder.

  
  
Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy was approaching the house, and quick. After hearing about the meeting with the Dark Lord, his Father, and Snape, he simply could not leave well enough alone. _Like water off a duck's back,_ he thought as he approached the front door. _Not this time._ Draco was dressed in a dark grey turtleneck, black trousers, and the usual robes. It was casual in a sense, but he felt it would suit for the situation.  
  
Once at the door, he hesitated before deciding against simply knocking, his right hand in his robe pocket toying with the handle of his wand. With a sigh, he removed his wand and pressed the tip to the middle doorknob, giving the blasted thing his identity confirmation, then reached one slender, pale finger up to stroke a specific line in the door's wood. The door creaked slightly, but the emergency entrance system seemed to still be in place as in just a few seconds the door opened, revealing to him the entrance hall and a _very_ nervous house elf at his feet.  
  
"Bugger off, you filthy thing. Where is your master?" The elf shivered worse than before, and pointed a trembling, bony finger down a hallway that Draco knew to lead to a lounge. As he passed the dinner table, he noticed there were two formal places set. Equal food had been served. _Is he treating her to dinners such as this? What is wrong with him!_ Draco stood for a moment looking at the plates and food. The noise of shuffling from the hall drew his attention away from the table and back to the hall and the lounge at the end of it. He raised his chin and began walking down the hall to the lounge.

She hadn’t attempted to harm him in some time, and he allowed her touch, gentle as it was. If anything, it would appear that she was coming around, though that could be a ruse as well; his paranoia was not so easily relieved, but that was not to say that her touch was not welcome.  
  
He slipped one arm around her waist as he drew her against him, lifting her chin to his face with his other, searching her eyes for deceit. “You would still see me punished, wouldn’t you?” he asked softly as he brushed her cheek with the tips of his fingers before curling them in her hair, his other hand still firmly placed on her back. “Perhaps one day, but not this one,” he whispered as he pulled her to him for an oddly gentle kiss before pressing her to him, brushing his cheek against hers. “You belong to me now,” he breathed in her ear, his eyes barely open as he took a moment to be selfish and enjoy her company, her touch without admitting as much.  
  
It was at that time at which he heard the whimpering of the elf, and he growled as he lifted his eyes, prepared to send the little creature on his way, and he froze, his grip on Hermione tightening.

“I do not appreciate unannounced visits, Draco,” he snarled as he straightened, “you have no business here at this time of night. But as you are here, do stay for a time.” He shot the elf a look that indicated that the guest should not leave as he released Hermione and directed her to stand behind him for now.

The kiss was splendid, something she had never felt from him before. She gave a soft nod at his words, letting him know her compliance was still there. She was just settling in to his arms when his throaty growl made her tense, his tightened hold causing her to pull back to look at his face. He had spoken before she could say anything, and the name he spoke sent her rigid in his arms. She clung to his arm as he let her go and moved to usher her behind him. Her eyes met with Malfoy's for the first time since that night her and Ginny were captured. Hermione wanted to lash out at him, but Snape remained firm in front of her.  
  
  
Draco had seen the kiss, and the disgustingly soft and gentle...hug? He stepped into the room, wand held tightly in his hand down at his side.  
  
"What is going on here, Snape?" He looked past the older man to Granger then back, meeting the dark eyes of his old mentor. "I saw two quaint little places set at the table when I came in." He approached the pair slowly, grey eyes surveying every inch of Snape's expression and posture. "Gone soft, have we? Is that what this is?" He stopped short of being within arm’s reach of the two, giving the nervous girl a nasty look. "It looks like I was more than right in wanting the little bitch, then."

  
“You have not learned that you do not get every little thing that you want, have you?" Snape said venomously as he withdrew his wand as well, returning the glare the younger man was giving him. "Especially when it is the property of another. Who are you to speak to me of being soft; you of all people, whose life I saved because you were too soft to fulfil your duty."

He snapped his fingers and pointed by his side, and the elf was there in an instant, bowed as usual. "Watch her," he hissed as he stepped forward, directly in the younger man's way.

"You have your own. You do _not_ have the right to take anything from me, particularly when it is gifted by the Dark Lord. Would you like to go speak with him, tonight? Right now, perhaps?" He took another step, tapping his leg with his wand before offering a particularly nasty smile, his voice a softer tone than before though the menace in it was clear. "Would you like to tell him that you will not abide by his decision; that his word was not enough, and his decision was... wrong?"

Hermione stood frozen, eyes flashing between Malfoy and Snape. They both looked about on the verge of a full-out duel. She let go of his arm when he stepped forward. She could feel his anger, the tension in the room overwhelming. I don't want to be here, is all she could think as she watched the two. Despite the elf, Hermione began taking small steps back, then shuffled silently to the side. She had her eyes firmly on Snape, Malfoy over his shoulder. Her aim was the door. _Just a bit further..._

  
" _Your property?_ " Draco questioned, sneering at the other openly before snorting and nodding his head in Granger's direction. "I do not see your name on her. I have a _history_ with that girl. What reason have you got?" He sidestepped cautiously and slowly with the older man's movements.

"Maybe the Dark Lord would like to hear about that lovely kiss just now? The _soft hug_ , dinner as well? I'm sure he would love to know you were sitting to dinners with her, like she was some house guest or something." Draco continued to stare back at Snape, his words clipped and sharp, a sneer planted on his face.

His nasty smile grew darker, more evil as he stepped forward again. "My name is upon her, carved into her very flesh. Would you like to see it?" He turned and grabbed Hermione by the arm, his look determined as he mouthed the words _"Trust me,"_ silently before turning to Draco, holding her against him, her face toward his chest.

"Look, as this will be the only time you see it." Without a further word he ripped the back of her shirt, exposing the scarred letters on her back, and only the letters as he stared hard at the pale haired boy. "Never question that again," he hissed as he held her at a distance, turning to the elf. "See her to the room," he told the elf before releasing her to the custody of the creature, nodding toward the exit before turning his full attention to Draco once more.

"Now that _that_ is settled, dinner is no concern of yours, just as your history with her is of no concern to me. You made your choice that night, now live with it," he hissed. "I believe the spoiled child has ruined his catch, and now he wants someone else's. Spoiled little prince, so used to getting his way; do you believe the Dark Lord would care what I do- what a half-blood would do, in the privacy of his own home? Are you jealous?" he asked, taking a few menacing steps forward, his grip on the wand tightening as he did. "Shall I take you to see him this instant?"  
  
He reached out to catch Draco by the arm...

Her eyes had widened as their conversation progressed, and mention of Snape's name on her caused her to freeze. She gasped as she was pulled to him. His silent words were not lost on her, and she simply tucked her head under his chin with her forehead firmly against his chest as she was held against him. She jerked when the shirt was torn, a small whine escaping her throat as she felt her skin exposed to the air. Hermione hated it. She was hating every single thing about what was going on.

She went with the elf silently, clutching the torn shirt at the shoulder with her free hand as the elf scuttled down the hall with her. "No," she protested finally, pulling her hand out of the elf's grasp. He began to speak, grabbing at her hand, but she was off back down the hall, headed for the front door.  
  
  
Draco's expression had fallen as Snape pulled Granger to him, showing off his mark upon her body. He flexed the muscles in his hand over and over nervously as he listened to the other, not even watching to see the girl taken from the room.  
  
"I have not _ruined my catch,_ I simply want what I deserve." But his words had weakened, losing any hint of threat they might have had before.  
  
Just as Snape reached for his arm, he caught the flash of someone rushing past the door, followed by a flailing elf. He jerked back and sprinted for the door. She was trying to escape; it was the perfect chance to grab her and retreat.

  
He cursed as he cast stupefy at Draco, running toward the doorway and trying to prevent their escape. The boy would have to be Obliviated, but Hermione... betrayal. What she had said, what she had told him, and he fairly roared as he cast the wards, trying to effectively seal them all in. He was trembling as he stalked down the hall to the entrance, furious, shoving the elf out of his way as he moved to chase his "guests".

  
Draco made a mad dash for the hallway, Snape's curse sailing close enough by him to brush the back of his trousers sharply. The boy was in the hall and upon Granger in mere seconds. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, his grip painful and undesirable to her.

  
As they backed swiftly to the front door, Draco's wand at Hermione's throat, they saw Snape rounding the hall, setting upon them like a mad beast of some sort. Draco shoved his wand tip more harshly into Granger's throat, causing her to begin to choke and gasp just a bit. All attempts at keeping the torn shirt together and covering her were forgotten, leaving her in the pleated skirt and panties; she had chosen that morning to wear his shirt without the addition of a bra.

All the while, Draco was shouting things at Snape. "I want her! You hear? I DESERVE her. She has a debt, we need to settle this debt; surely you can understand that, Snape?" His voice finally betrayed him as the tone clearly showed how nervous he was.

"I'm going to take her. Say she escaped, whatever you must say. But _she WILL be MINE_." His free hand roamed roughly down her now bare back, fingertips feeling the scars that spelled out his old Professor's name in her skin. _It can be fixed, I can change it..._

  
Hermione squirmed horribly, trying to kick back into his knees or crotch but he kept side-stepping the efforts of hers. They were nearly to the door. In a fit of desperation, Hermione pushed hard against Draco's restraints and called out to Snape desperately.

" _Snape!_ " she screamed, managing to free an arm to reach back at the man closing in on them. "Help- Please! ... _Master, please!_ " She was near tears. The words caused Draco to pause, but it was gone just as quick.

"Shut up, you nasty little chit," he spat as he roughly jerked her back against him, one hand planted firmly across the scars on her back as they continued moving toward the front door. It was nearly an arm's length away... He tipped his chin to whisper roughly in her ear. "I will remove this mark of his. You will not be his, ever. You will be mine. As it should have been, do you understand?"

  
“You are not taking her. No one is leaving," he said savagely, bringing the wards up once more, walking menacingly to stop just before the boy and his captive. "What you _deserve_ is a good hexing, especially with this attempt to steal what is mine. Her debt to you ended when the Dark Lord made his decision; she _will not_ be yours."

He looked to Hermione, pressed tightly against Draco and apparently realizing her mistake; he narrowed his eyes before returning his attention to the wizard with the wand to her throat. He would deal with her betrayal afterward, and the thought actually spurred him on, angered him further. He knew it, expected it on a deeper level; clearly his mistrust was well-founded and well-placed. He should leave her to her fate; she wanted to be away enough to escape, he should have allowed it. Let her see how fortunate she had been.

Unfortunately, the problems were two fold; the first being the fact that he would never be able to re-acquire her. Once escaped and captured by another, dominion ends- only due to the escape. Kidnapping would ensure her return, escape ended his right of possession. The second problem was simple enough: Severus Snape did not allow his possessions to be taken so easily. Eileen was right; he guarded the things he regarded as his jealously and viciously; his name was upon this girl, she had called him "master", she was his. There was nothing further to discuss.  
  
"You have no subtlety, Draco; I would have expected better out of you. Once again I must teach you how to do such a thing, I see." He leaned forward, a flick of his wrist and a cruel sneer betraying his intent as he articulated the spell; _"Imperio,"_ he said softly but clearly. "Release the girl, and I will correct this."

  
The girl continued to struggle and kick, but Malfoy's painful grip continued. His hand had moved from her back to her neck and shoulder, harshly holding her to him. Wounds from the previous night reopened, her blood lightly sticking to his hand and clothing. It caused him to jerk, his full attentions away from the approaching man before them.

Clearly, Draco lacked experience and an edge over his opponent. He could not make it to the exit quick enough, and he growled as his back met with the now completely warded door. He looked up at Snape who was slowly, menacingly approaching. He knew he was beat, but still he refused to let her go. It was a situation quickly remedied, though, as the older man cast _Imperio._

Draco tried to fight it off, but Snape was far stronger, especially given the situation and his anger. The blond haired boy let go of his captor and stumbled back, knocking his knee painfully into the door behind him. He shook his head, attempting to rid his mind of the man's instruction within his head. Again, he knocked his knee into the door.

  
Hermione winced against his movements, and stumbled forward as she was finally let go. She put her arms up to brace herself as she collided with Snape.

  
Severus caught her, spinning her around and setting her behind him, snapping his fingers to indicate to the elf that she was, once again, his responsibility; he would deal with her later. For now, there was this. "Remove yourself," he hissed as he turned back to Draco, releasing him from the spell.

"Now that we have settled that, I believe we have at least one more piece of business to settle," he told the boy as he approached, keeping his wand low as he grabbed Draco's collar with one hand. "The next time you enter _my_ home and make such an attempt, you will wake in St. Mungo's- provided you wake at all. Am I making myself clear?" He shoved Draco back against the door, leaning forward slightly as he pinned him in place. "The Dark Lord declined your father, the Minister of Magic himself; what makes you think you would succeed where he has failed?"   
  
He took a step back, shoving Draco away as he gripped his wand tightly, preparing to remove the memories of this night as he raised his wand.

  
Hermione stumbled to the side, arms still to her chest. This time the elf was ready, and almost instantly her wrists were pulled together and bound by the same stream of bright binding the elf had used to lead her to dinner the previous evening. She struggled against the restraints, keeping her feet firmly in place as the creature attempted to pull her away from the scene. She was staring intently at Malfoy, not Snape. She wanted to curse him, spit in his face, knock him over and plant her foot squarely over his pointy little nose. But the elf doubled his efforts, causing her shoulder to collide with the wall to her right as she was slowly being pulled away.

  
Draco snapped his head up, expression clearly showing his fear though he was trying to make the older man believe otherwise. He jerked his left hand up, knocking away Snape's hand at the same time he released him.  
  
"What do you think you're-" The spell cut off his words, pushing him back into the door. He had thrown his wand up, deflecting a good deal of the memory charm. But he quickly found himself confused, wondering why he was in an actual duel of sorts with Snape so suddenly. He started to slip down the door, but caught himself as the noises and protests from Granger reached his ears. He kept his wand up, on the complete defensive as he steadied himself. He still remembered their talk, and Snape showing him his name upon the girl's back. Something had drawn him from the lounge, had it been Granger? She had been trying to escape...  
  
"What are you doing," Draco questioned, his voice low and rough.

  
Severus straightened, not pleased at all that the spell had been deflected; but it would appear that enough had taken effect after all. "What I am doing is assisting you," he said as he took a step back, giving Draco enough room to straighten himself up. "Your efforts to restrain my captive were unnecessary, but it was generous of you in any regard." He shot a look toward Hermione, satisfied when he saw the restraints on her wrists this time. 

"In any regard, Draco, your question as to her care has been satisfied, has it not?" He turned and walked to Hermione, grabbing her elbow and shoving her into the other study, elf in tow as he closed the door and warded it shut.

"Are there any further questions before you leave?" he asked as he turned, keeping a wary eye on the boy. To what extent his memories where affected he needed to know, and quickly.

“Her...I see." Draco's eyes followed Snape's glance back at Granger. She looked completely desperate, bound by the elf's magic and giving him a rather nasty look. He narrowed his eyes at her, but before he could say anything Snape had grabbed her and deposited her in a nearby room. He heard her pounding on the door, and after a few muffled shouts she went silent.

"What was that? What..." His memory flashed back to when he arrived, seeing the table set for two, then walking in on them in the lounge. Kissing, holding one another. He frowned as he readjusted his stance, lowering his wand finally. His eyes flashed to the side, glancing into the dining room, but the table was clear. "What were you two doing?"  
  
  
Hermione gave up on her efforts rather quickly. The elf kept her wrists bound, but did not attempt to move her any more. With a quick snap, she had a new shirt on and with another, two candles were lit. She sighed heavily and turned to face the room. _Oh..._ She was in Eileen's room once more, which did come as a bit of a surprise that Snape would have shoved her into that room in the state she was in.  
  
She set herself right as much as she could and walked further into the room looking around for Eileen, the elf scuttling along beside her still holding the end of her bindings in his hand.  
  


Snape tapped his hand with his wand, wondering just how much Draco remembered. Legilimency might answer it- provided he was not uncomfortable enough to block it. "I was enjoying the privilege of having such a one at my mercy. She must be taught proper obedience; such things do not happen miraculously."

  
  
Eileen, on the other hand, was in the third painting, sleeping on an elegant chaise that had been painted into it, special for her. It was placed next to a table with a small lamp- which appeared to be lit, and surrounded on one side by green fern-like plants. The sudden activity in the room surprised her, and she sat up quickly, peering into the darkness- until the candles were lit.  
  
"What is going on here?" she asked as she noticed Hermione's restraints. "Why is... _why_ are those upon her?" She pointed toward them, obvious distaste and disgust written on her face. "You will remove those from her immediately!" she hissed to the elf; her son's resemblance to her probably clearer now. "Why in the name of Merlin are those on you?"

The elf flinched as Eileen spoke up, bowing to her with trembling legs. Hermione turned to face the third painting, not sure exactly what to say or do. She was still in a fluster over what had happened, and that she was now locked in a room, away from both men. Not that the situation was anything she wanted to be around, but she hated not knowing what was going on. On top of it all, a sinking feeling in her gut was creeping up on her. She had told him she would obey, that she accepted her situation and even welcomed his attentions. She decided she would explain it away using Malfoy as an excuse, but she already knew it would do no good.  
  
 _"Master is- he- Young Master Malfoy-"_  
  
"What he means to say is, Malfoy showed up. Rather unexpectedly. And, well, he thinks...that is..." She fumbled with her words, her lack of eye contact giving away that there was something wrong.  
  
  
"I see," Draco said, eying Snape closely. The man was weighing the situation; that much was obvious. There was something wrong, something that definitely required careful thought and wording to avoid or handle. Cautiously, he pocketed his wand and fixed his clothing, buying as much time as he could to remember anything. _He did something to me..._  
  
"Well. Clearly all is in order." He turned slightly, giving Snape the sign that he would like to leave. He vaguely wondered where the elf was, as the creature usually stuck like glue around them when he was visiting. "We will be in contact."

Eileen watched her nervous demeanor, growing more ill-at-ease with each passing moment. "What happened?" she asked in a more gentle voice, approaching as closely as she could to the surface of the painting. "Tell me everything, please; I need to know."  
  
  
Severus took a step back, his wand by his side as he kept a wary eye on Draco, but he was doing nothing untoward. In fact, his actions were anything but; there was no real reason to believe the spell was completely unsuccessful if he based the assessment entirely on the boys actions, but an there was an odd feeling that made him think otherwise.  
  
"Very well," he told the young man, not seeing proof of deception in the boys' eyes. He lowered the wards and unlocked the door, but did not open it. "I suppose I should look forward to your company again soon?"

  
“Rest assured," Draco answered evenly. He remembered enough to know something was off between Snape and the girl. It was quite odd that he would be so adamant about not letting her, Hermione Granger, go. He turned sharply, pulling the door open causing a rush of air to move through the house, rattling doors down the hallway. Once he had left the doorway, he turned and nodded, finally letting his eyes show that he knew more to the situation; something that could come back to haunt the _couple._ And within a blink and a pop, he was gone, leaving Snape's front door wide open in his wake.


	14. Fourteen

Hermione finally met with Eileen's eyes, once more offering her an apologetic look. The elf was beside himself twice over, whining and shifting from foot to foot horribly. She let her arms go limp, her wrists still bound together in front of her. Slowly, she lowered herself down to the floor, sitting on her knees with her bound hands in her lap.  
  
"I'm not sure what I should or should not be saying, I'm sorry." Her voice was weak. For the first time in days, she felt the painful urge in her chest to cry. She held her breath over and over, attempting to keep it down. She raised her joined hands to her face, playing off hiding her face as simply holding her head as if she had a horrid headache.  
  


Severus gritted his teeth; he had witnessed that _look_ , and he knew it would not bode well at all. He would need to begin controlling the situation, and as he shut the door and set the wards his mind was already active with the most likely actions the boy would take.  
  
Damn him.  
  
It was Severus' own fault for not using the obliviation spell twice, but the risk to the boy was far too high. He turned and walked swiftly to the study where he'd last left Hermione, who was kneeling before his mother's painting, looking quite distraught.  
  
"I hope you are pleased," he told her in a menacing voice. "You may have undone everything I have worked to achieve."  
  
  
"Severus, what is this about?" Eileen asked as she walked to the other side of the painting, clearly confused but concerned. "Why is she restrained? What is going on?" 

  
He turned his gaze toward his mother, his voice taking a matter of fact tone though his stance did not relax one bit. "She is a muggle born witch. She was captured during an excursion, along with her friend. I elected to take charge of her, and Malfoy took the other. I cannot speak on the fate of the other, but I assure you that this girl is far better off. Her wand has not been broken, and neither has her spirit, apparently." 

  
Eileen looked to the girl sadly before turning back to her son, a hard edge to her voice. "So she is your prisoner, Severus? Are you going to tell me that this girl is nothing to you?" She leaned forward, pressing one hand to the frame as she watched him intently, "Why then is she not imprisoned? Why is she dressed well, undamaged?"

  
Severus bristled at the accusations, and turned a dark glare toward the girl. "None of this matters, mother. She decided to make an escape attempt, and I was forced to alter the young Malfoy's memory. Not to mention the fact that the elf did not clear the table fast enough to hide the fact that she had dinner with... me." He took a few steps forward, stopping directly before Hermione as he turned toward the painting. "Unfortunately the spell was deflected. Draco remembers everything, and I have no doubt this will not end well."

Eileen's voice softened as she observed his behavior, but she didn't move from her position in the frame. "And what, precisely, did he see?" she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Severus delayed for a long moment before answering in very nearly a whisper. "I kissed her."

  
"Kissed her?" Eileen asked, her eyebrows rising as she dropped her hands and rushed to the other side of the frame. "You kissed her in front of him?"

  
Severus shook his head, "Of course not. He entered unannounced," he gave a black look to the elf, "at a most inopportune moment. And now, the fight with Lucius, the audience with the Dark Lord- who will think I have deceived him, I might add, have all been rendered pointless. For a kiss."

  
"A kiss," Eileen parroted, her eyes glued to the young girl before her; the expression on her face may have been thoughtful, calculating, but the smile in her eyes was clear enough if someone were to look. She crouched in the frame, watching Hermione as she tried to get the girl's attention. "Surely there is something you'd like to say?" she asked gently, wanting Hermione's side- though in truth, the fact that her son had willingly kissed this girl in such a way as to cause such problems still had her reeling.

Hermione sniffed back her tears once Snape entered. She kept her head bowed, face in her hands as he approached her, speaking back and forth with Eileen. No, she was not pleased. Far from it. If anything, she had been thinking of Malfoy and wanting to get away from the situation when she had ran. Her trust in Snape to handle the situation had faltered, and it got the best of her.  
  
She lifted her face once Eileen addressed her again. He had been completely honest with her, even about the kiss. She swallowed back her stomach and inhaled deeply.  
  
"I wasn't...running from him." Hermione turned her face to look up at Snape. "I'm sorry," she offered, her voice finally breaking with emotion and nerves. Her bound hands lowered and reached for the cuff of his pants, her fingers grazing the top of his shoes. "Please, I didn't mean for that..."

He grabbed her arm and pulled her up to stand before releasing her, taking a step back. "You didn't mean for it? What did you mean to happen? Had you not run, he would not have chased you! You could not simply do the one thing I asked you to do, could you?"   
  
He began to pace before her, his anger building; Eileen and her soft words forgotten in his fit of temper. "You _lied_ to me. Your compliance, your obedience, lies! You believe it to be strictly for my own ego, but you do not see the greater picture, do you? If Draco tells his father, then Lucius will go to the Dark Lord who, in turn, may come here _personally_ to discover the truth; he may not. Either way, it will be painful, and you...what do you think will happen, foolish girl?"  
  
He stopped, and with a wave of his wand he released her from her restraints before taking her by the arm once more. "I should have let him take you, ungrateful girl," he hissed as he pulled her from the room, ignoring the protests of his mother's paintings. 

He led her down the hall and to the door, which he opened wide before shoving her onto the porch. "You may not have your wand; this is what you wanted, what you tried to achieve. There are other Death Eaters out here, and it is past curfew; I will be surprised if you make it more than two streets away. Good luck to you," he told her as he crossed his arms, a very hard look in his eye as he took a step back, the door within arm's reach.

"If you believe it has been so terrible for you here, you have a hard lesson to learn indeed, and I cannot protect you if you leave those steps. You will not- are not- mine any longer if you do so."

  
She did not attempt to look back at Eileen, or to pull away or resist his directions. Her stomach kept turning and twisting as he spoke, she wanted to protest but found herself completely lost for words or the breath even to speak. Snape was right, she knew he was right. She had known she had made a big mistake since the moment Malfoy had blasted out of the lounge after her. Probably before then.

Hermione gasped as the door was thrown open and the cold air hit her face. She stumbled forward, holding her arms tight to herself as she slowly corrected her balance and straightened her back. She looked out across the small yard and street, the darkness pitch in many areas between buildings and around trees.  
  
 _"You will not- are not- mine any longer if you do so."_  
  
She turned around to face him, tears clearly evident as she no longer cared to hide them or her emotions. "No," she managed to choke out, voice still trembling. "No." Her shoulders shook slightly as the weather and her nerves began to get the best of her. "You said always. Your name...I didn't lie!"

  
He pulled his arms in even more tightly, but didn't move; just watched her through the curtain of dark hair. "You chose to run, you tried to flee. Had you done what I had told you, nothing more would have come of it; I would have dealt with Draco. You had so little faith. You called me a liar when you tried to escape through this very door. You lied when you promised your compliance. You lied when you told me you were mine, always. In the bed you swore yourself to me, you gave yourself to me, and you did this..."

His voice hitched as he shivered, probably from the cold but possibly more. He searched the shadows for movement, for spies; it didn't matter any longer. "You wanted to be here, to go through the door and leave. Well, you are here now. Say the word and I will remove the name, and all claim to you. You can have the freedom you have always desired; but when they bring you before the Dark Lord, to return you to me, know that I will not be able to save you if _you_ choose to leave."  
  
He drew his wand, but kept it low as he raised his eyes to her, a flicker of pain visible for only an instant before they were cold once more. "Make your choice girl. Shall I remove my name from you and let you have the night to make your way?"

  
Hermione's back bent slightly as she began to hunch over in the cold, still holding her arms tightly as she started to visibly shake. Two or three tears fell down her cheeks, leaving horribly cold trails across her skin though she did not attempt to wipe them away. She continued to look at the man, not sure what to say. She looked over her shoulder at the street again, but the more he spoke the more she could hear it; something deeper than anger at her betrayal in his voice. It jerked at her emotions, demanding her attention and concern.

She turned her face back to his, her expression nearly unreadable with the mix of emotions and thoughts flowing through her mind. "How can you..." Her words were nearly a whisper. "How can you say that?" She took a step forward, nearly making it back into the doorway.  
  
"How can you offer to remove it?" What was wrong with him? She took another step. "Does nothing you say mean anything in the end? Do you ever speak the truth?" Hermione didn't care if she was being hypocritical or not.

  
“What truth would you hear?" he asked quietly, unmoving as she approached the doorway. "I could ask the same of you, but I know the answer; it was all an act, all false. You should know that I have every right to kill you now, for attempting to escape. It is generous that I should not do it, that I allow you to escape if you so choose."

He saw the trails of tears on her face, and he knew she was certainly cold in the winter air, no more than she was wearing. He wanted to bring her in, to hold her until she was warm, to keep her safe; clearly that was not what she wanted- and she demonstrated as much before Malfoy, of all people.  
  
"Keep your mark, as I keep mine. Your choice is yours" he said as he sheathed his wand inside his robes, turning on his heel and walking into the house and disappearing into the lounge where he had met with Malfoy, pointing the elf toward the door. "Close it if she leaves," he told the creature before pouring a rather generous amount of scotch in a glass and drinking it rather quickly. The entire situation was a mess, and there would be a great deal of explaining to do.  
  
"She lied to me," he whispered, his hand actually shaking slightly as he swirled the liquor in the glass, drinking the remainder before pouring a second glass. He'd have at least one night of comfort before the chaos of the coming days began.


	15. Fifteen

Hermione stood on the porch, eyes widening as he stalked away from her, elf following him. That was it, then? She was free? She took a step back, again looking over her shoulder at the darkness surrounding the house. _I...I can't._  
  
"Why are you so afraid?" She said as she walked through the doorway to the lounge, still holding herself from the cold. "Why is it any time I come close, you push away violently? I asked you this earlier today; I did not get a real answer." She walked further into the room, approaching him without any hesitation. Once she was not a step away, she went to her knees and looked up into his face.  
  
"I didn't lie to you." Her eyes lowered away from his as she finally let go of her arms, her hands resting in her lap, still shaking. "I can't leave," she whispered, "I'm sorry..."

He didn't look at her at first, choosing instead to finish his drink in a leisurely manner. So she had not left; not surprising, considering her fate if she had; he might have remained had his choice been the same. Maybe.

"It is not fear," he answered softly, setting the glass aside and finally looking at her, on her knees before him in a position of submission as she spoke. Any words he might have shared were held; the sound of her apology caused him to inhale sharply, and he stepped back, tucking his arms in front of his chest.

"I don't believe you," he hissed, the liquor certainly loosening his tongue somewhat. "You can't leave because you fear them more than you fear me, and well you should!" He turned away, placing both hands on the mantle of the fireplace on the wall, pressing against it as his grip tightened, keeping him from facing her directly. "They would kill you without hesitation, mark or not! You saw what Malfoy tried to do, despite the Dark Lord's wishes, yet you betray me with your actions..."   
  
With a sweep of his arm he brushed everything from the mantel before turning toward her, his face flushed as he finally gave in to his temper, pointing to himself with each statement for emphasis.

"Things had changed for you here, _I_ gave you a room, a washroom! _I_ gave you dresses, a comfortable bed- a bedroom! _I_ let you take dinner with me! _I_ allowed you into the library, _I_ allowed you to speak with my _mother_!"

By this point he was becoming unsteady, but he did not sit. Instead he reached out one hand for the mantel to get his bearing; he was not drunk by any means, but he was not himself.

"I did what I was required at the start. I could return to that," he said quietly as he turned away from her, leaning his shoulder against the fireplace. "Do you have any idea what they are going to do- what this night will have wrought?"

  
“I can't leave because I have done something wrong, not because I am afraid," Hermione's voice raising as he walked away, "I...owe you." But the last was lower, returning almost to a whisper. She raised her eyes to watch him move, listen to him speak. Her entire body jerked as he knocked everything off the mantel, but she did not stand or back away. Her fingers gripped the skirt at her knees as he spoke once more, and silently she listened.

He again was right. Either way, whether she stay or not, her actions- their actions would bring about consequences. She remained silent, clearly attempting to work out something in her head. _I've got it..._  
  
"Sir, I have an idea; but will you...allow it of me? Will you allow me to stay?" Her eyes searched for his, but he was turned away from her completely. She closed her eyes, concentrating on him completely. _Will you make me yours, again? Will you reinforce your claim? If you will, then please...never falter again. Even if I begin to doubt, don't let me._ She opened her eyes, waiting for him to look at her, to give her an answer.

  
“Allow you to stay," he repeated, his eyes on the far wall as he leaned. Her thoughts, projected so loudly towards him were not unheard, but he would not address them. "More the fool I." 

He pushed away from the mantle and poured another glass of scotch, drinking half of it faster than he should have, perhaps. "What is this idea of yours," he asked, cutting his eyes toward her as he took another sip. "I would hear what you have to say, and then you may return to the room if I find it satisfactory."

  
Hermione hoped he had picked up on her thoughts or feelings- any of them, but did not have the nerve to ask. She repositioned herself on her knees, her feet under her rear bent at the toes. He was drinking too much, but she was not going to say anything about it. He was definitely off-beat, and she was unsure how to handle herself around him at that point. She inhaled slowly, going over the plan in her head before speaking again.  
  
"Malfoy will have told his father by now. But, not Voldemort, right? That means we have somewhere around four to six hours." She paused, looking up to him to make sure he was listening. "All that needs to change is what he remembers, correct? That, and what Lucius remembers of what was said to him?"

“Indeed," he said before finishing this glass and setting it aside as he turned to face her, clasping his hands behind his back as he looked down at her. "I doubt even Lucius would care to disturb the Dark Lord at this time of night."

He wondered if she was about to offer some half-baked plan, something near suicidal- or something brilliant. "Go on," he encouraged, "I am listening."

“Well...the Malfoys are a proud family. I think, if you sent word fairly soon- _urgent_ word, that they would agree, and come." A pause to make sure she had it laid out properly in her head before beginning to explain the entire plan.

"Once here, they would need to be separated. Which...might be difficult, but I think we can come up with something. Have Draco...wait in the front room, with the excuse that you need speak with his father, alone. Once you have him back here, use the _Imperius_ curse." Her voice was still trembling, but the tone had gained strength and hope. "Since you need to alter both their memories...you will need my help."  
  
Hermione's eyes looked deep into his. Yes, he would need to trust her if the plan was to work. This was the main aspect of her plan that she was unsure what he would think of.  
  
"One of us needs to keep him silent and still, while the other...corrects his memories, of anything his son might have told him." She wanted to continue on without him protesting just yet, so she moved to stand but changed her mind at the last minute, instead settling back down onto her heels underneath her. He was remaining silent, after all.  
  
"Draco is easier to handle. All you need do is bring him to a room where I am waiting, appearing to be broken, and bound- it will give him confidence over the situation. You explain to him however you must that I am now his, and allow him to approach me- his new possession. He is single-minded, you know this as well as I. Once I am all he is thinking about, then...you will have the perfect chance."  
  
Hermione leaned forward, placing her palms on the floor in front of her. "We can make this right again. Please."

  
He turned, putting his hand to his mouth as he thought over her plan; Lucius would certainly come if he sent the right message, even now. A desperate note, putting him at Lucius' disposal; the gift of the girl to his son- a chance to gloat. The man would come, and bring his arrogant offspring with him. The problem was with her.

"You said you would see me punished, yet here is your opportunity and you would allow it to pass? To be honest, I thought that was what you had engineered." He stopped pacing and dropped to one knee before her, "Lucius does not take well to the Imperius, but he is a master of casting it. There will be only one chance, so it must work. The problems as I see them are keeping Draco occupied in the meantime, and trusting you. How do I know that you are not trying to secure my death?"

Hermione swallowed nervously as he lowered himself almost to her level. She knew it was a lot to ask; to be trusted. But she was prepared to prove herself, this time. She would make it right.

"You...I do not know the conditions surrounding most of anything you have done in the past. They appear evil in nature sometimes, but I truly do not understand the whole of it. I would like the chance to learn, but until then..." She inched closer to him, though her eyes were downcast.  
  
"How do you know I am not trying to secure your death?" Hermione exhaled a weak laugh through her nose, almost a snort as she closed her eyes and turned her face from his. "I have told you several times now, I do not want you dead."

Her voice was breaking once again. She looked up into his black orbs, the return of tears threatening to fall down her face again showing her emotions clearly. "Look again, if you must. You may look any time you feel need to do so. I agreed with you; I said I was yours. Mind, body and soul."

She reached for his arm and knee slowly. "Look as far as you'd like, however long it will take for you to believe- to know who I am. Or make me promise, make a vow or oath that I cannot break." A single tear could not be held back any longer, but she did not flinch or react to it, instead letting it fall from her chin to her wrist freely.

"Please. This can work. I know it can. And once it does...everything will return to the way it was. And, should Malfoy continue in his efforts to acquire me, we will be prepared to show him- or do whatever we need to in order to continue this. Here. _Us._ " At her last word, she set both hands on his arm gently, giving the word 'us' emphasis.

  
He looked at the hands on his arm, her words so very tempting. "You have stated you would have me punished, and punished I will be if they go to the Dark Lord. This would certainly secure that particular result."

He stood, stepping unsteadily away from her as he thought over the plan she presented to him. There was a chance it could work; Draco was not the problem, Lucius was. The house elf could be ordered to be prepared to assist...there was no reason to avoid trying. Left to their own devices, this would end poorly; a failed attempt would result in more of the same, and sooner. Success, however; the chances were not so slim as to render the plan to be something too risky to try.  
  
"If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well, it were done quickly," he quoted as he summoned a parchment and quill, writing a short letter in his cramped, spiky script. A flick of his wand and it vanished, to appear to Lucius; the desperate note he added to the letter would draw him as a shark to injured prey. Lucius was nothing if not a creature of habit.  
  
"This had better work," he snorted, taking yet one more glass of scotch, sipping it more slowly this time- slow being relative, naturally. "I expect they will be here within moments. Prepare yourself; if your plan fails, you will belong to them."

  
She watched him as he thought over her words, her hands returning to her lap once he stood up. She worried at her bottom lip as he walked away, thinking still, but she quickly stood once he had summoned the quill and bit of parchment, writing quickly and sending it away just as fast.

Hermione approached him as he refilled his glass, beginning to worry about the amount he had drank already and the given effects of doing such a thing. But she felt she had no real right to say anything about it, so instead she sighed and turned her face to gaze around the room.  
  
 _"Prepare yourself; if your plan fails, you will belong to them."_  
  
That, however, she did feel she could speak up about. She snapped her face back to his, her expression that of confusion and offence. " _What?_ You would just give up, would you? I can't do this if you're not with me on it, completely." He was behaving very odd indeed. It did not set well with her one bit, her face clearly showing such.  
  
There came two quick, sharp knocks on the front door before he could respond, causing her to start and whirl around to face the door to the hallway. After a second or two, she looked over her shoulder at Snape. "I will need a wand," she whispered.

  
“I am not giving up," he hissed, rounding on her as he let his temper get the best of him once more. "If he suspects, if he bests me, I will be _incapacitated_ and unable to stop them! Think, girl!"

He opened his mouth to speak again, but the knocks on the door caused him to pause, growling before he downed the rest of his drink. Her words caused him to freeze before turning to her, narrowing his eyes before raising his wand. A flick of his wrist and a case could be heard unlocking in another room. "If you betray me, it will be your last," he hissed as he summoned her wand, handing it to her in a sharp motion. "Now go."  
  
He set the glass on the table, pouring a small amount into it but not making a move to lift it. He had drank enough to affect his manner, and certainly enough to smell it on his breath; nothing spoke of desperation more than the mark of alcohol on a man who did not normally drink- at least not in great quantity. He took a shuddering breath as he motioned to the elf, "When she is ready, allow them entrance. Do not make them wait longer than necessary."  
  


Hermione straightened as he raised his wand, and she heard a chest unlock faintly from his room. She held her breath until he handed her wand to her, which she accepted with a still shaking hand. It felt...odd, holding it again, but at the same time very right; like a missing piece of her was finally found and she was once again whole. The moment quickly passed, however, as he directed her to leave the room and take her place in the study across the hall; the one she had hid in while Malfoy was there earlier that very morning. The handle of her wand rested in her palm, both hands closed in tight fists to hide the fact should she be discovered, with the rest of the wand tucked up into her sleeve. One flick and she would be ready.  
  
The elf left her, then rushed to the front door to show the two men in. They stood on the porch almost shoulder to shoulder as they waited, and were finally allowed entrance. Draco moved to cross the threshold first, but his father seemed just as anxious if not more so, and was through the door before he could get one foot in.

  
With a deep breath Severus stepped to the doorframe of the lounge, leaning heavily against it. "Lucius, if you don't mind, I would have Draco wait in the other room for the time being," he said as he motioned to the dining room, "The elf can tend to him while he waits."

  
Lucius sneered, looking rather arrogant as he nodded sharply to the room, indicating that Draco should go in there. "You do not seem yourself," Lucius said with more than a touch of arrogance. "Imagine my surprise when Draco told me what he had witnessed."

  
Severus said nothing, keeping his head lowered as he poured yet more drinks, capping off his and setting a fresh glass aside, pouring one for Lucius as well. "Imagine my surprise when he came to my home to steal my property," he replied as he handed the drink to the other wizard.

"Now Severus, she's more than property, isn't she?" he said as he accepted the glass, swirling the drink but not partaking of it. "Seduced by a mere girl, and a mudblood at that; I would never have expected such a thing of you; although you are a half blood. I suppose it would be more acceptable, but I cannot fathom it." When Severus took a long drink from his, Lucius chose to finally take a small sip of his.

"Lucius, as pleasant as this may be, we should discuss business, don't you think?" he said with a slur to his speech, his expression showing that he was more than a little stung by the words, though in truth he was becoming angry. Dare not show that.  
  


Lucius' smile was cold, triumphant as he set the glass aside. “Oh, but Severus, this is such great sport. Finally, the cold, distant man has cracked, and a weakness was found. Disgusting, I would never have imagined it. I just hope my son discovered it before you were tainted.” 

Without another word, Severus sank into the nearby chair, looking thoroughly defeated as he downed the last of the drink, tossing the glass aside on the floor. “Lucius, enough.”

But he didn't let up. “You didn't?” He turned his back to the door, facing Severus completely; Severus, who was now leaning forward, his head in his hands. “You... this is... what a wonderful day!” The blond-haired man leaned forward, both hands on his cane as he smiled darkly. “I believe that we have more to discuss than just the possession of a mudblood, don't we?”

  
 _”Now, Hermione. While he gloats,”_ he thought, not looking up to where he expected to see the girl standing. “Lucius please, is this not enough?”

  
“No, Severus. It does not begin to be enough...” Lucius began.

Draco had narrowed his eyes at his father's back as he walked on down the hall with Snape. He took a step forward, having heavily considering following them and listening in on the conversation but the elf walked into his path, causing him to stop. "What," he shot down at the nasty creature, "What do you want."  
  
 _"W-would young Master Malfoy be liking something to drink?"_ The elf scurried into the dining room, conjuring a bottle of dark liquor and a glass. Draco raised an eyebrow then smirked. "Of course I would, you stupid thing." He walked into the dining room and took a seat at the head of the table, his view of the hallway completely cut off as he waited for the elf to serve him his drink.  
  
  
Hermione crept along the wall just outside of the study, having heard Draco accept the drink offer and enter the dining room, the chair sliding out from under the table and the clink of the bottle and glass as he was served. She approached the lounge carefully, making sure to stay completely silent in both her breathing and her footsteps. Finally she was just steps from the doorway; she had a clear shot of Lucius, his entire back side facing the entry completely.  
  
 _"No, Severus. It does not begin to be enough..."_ She quickly stepped into the room, at the same time bringing her wand up in a semi-circle formation, silently raising a sound-proof ward around the entire room. Her left hand had flown behind her, closing the door against her back as the ward was completed and secured. Very nearly in complete unison with her actions, Snape had already taken action, Lucius' cane- wand and all, flying to the other side of the room.  
  
" _Incarcerous!_ " Thick bindings quickly wound around Lucius, sending him crashing to the floor in a flurry of swears and threats. Hermione kept her eyes and wand trained on the older Malfoy as Snape moved in.

  
“So sorry Lucius, but you have it entirely wrong," Severus said as he levitated Lucius to a nearby chair, checking for injuries and paying little attention to the ungentlemanly words that Lucius was giving. "Language, Lucius."  
  


Lucius turned and saw Hermione standing by the door, wand in hand and watching him intently. "So you would turn traitor for this...this mudblood girl?" he spat as he turned a hateful glare toward Snape. "Do you believe I won't be missed, that you can get away with this?"

  
"Your vision is limited, Lucius," he said as he raised his wand to Lucius' forehead. The brief look of fear on the man’s face was wonderful, but it was masked quickly by determination and hate. "Do your worse," Malfoy said, spitting on Snape's coat.

  
"That was unnecessary," he told Lucius as he cast the Obliviate, quickly following it with a cleansing spell to clear the spit. When Lucius finally began to appear confused, Severus released the binding and cast a quick disillusionment toward Hermione.

"Really Lucius, I would have thought you could hold your liquor better than this." He picked up his glass from near Lucius' chair, tsking as he set it on a nearby table. "Perhaps you are tired, let me collect Draco for you."  
  
  
Lucius watched everything Severus did with an absent detachment, until he started walking away. "Have we resolved our issues?" he asked, looking curiously to Snape.

  
"Of course," Severus replied. "I will be at the disposal of the Minister, as always. I am nothing if not a faithful servant of our Lord, after all."

  
The smile that crossed Lucius' lips was frightening in its cold intensity. "That you are, Severus. That you are."

Severus nodded and opened the doors widely, allowing Hermione a moment to slip through. "I shall return momentarily with your son and what you asked of me." He slid the doors closed as Lucius nodded, waving him off; once they were shut he rested his forehead against them for an instant, exhaling a breath he hadn't known he'd held. "Now for the son," he said very quietly as he straightened his clothing, waiting for her to speak her mind.

She watched as Snape collected the glass from the floor, and spoke so smoothly to Lucius. It had worked, her plan had worked! Draco would be a breeze, Hermione just knew he would. She looked over her shoulder at Snape as he left the room behind her, speaking softly.  
  
"It's going to work," she whispered, offering him a look of confidence though he could not see her. "I'm going to the front study, and I will need Virgil. I'll be ready when you bring Malfoy in."

She walked ahead of him and entered the room, waiting for the disillusionment charm to be lifted before doing anything else. It didn't take but a few seconds before she felt it melt off as Snape passed by the door on his way to the dining room.  
  
Hermione closed the door softly before walking to the center of the room. She made a worse mess of her hair than it already was, and clapped her palms to her cheeks a few times to assist in pulling together the overall look of 'broken'. Lastly, she adjusted her new shirt to match such an appearance, looking at the elf and nodding once she was ready. She went down to her knees and held out her wrists for him, but he hesitated.

"Please, hurry," she hissed, offering her wrists again. This time, he did not hesitate, and with a simple snap the bright strand of light was wrapped around her wrists. Instead of holding the end, the elf jerked his finger toward a spot on the floor. The strand wound itself through a seemingly invisible bolt in front of her, and tied in a secure knot before coming to rest. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. _No big deal, Hermione. You can do this- He can do this._  
  
  
Draco sat up from his relaxed position in the chair as Snape entered the room, but oddly enough his father was not with him. He frowned at the older man, standing from his seat and leaving his almost empty glass on the table.  
  
"What's going on? Have you changed your mind, _Snape?_ " He sneered at the other, tipping his head back a bit to look down his nose at the man.

How he wanted to slap the sneer from the little prat's face; instead, he simply nodded, crooking his finger for the boy to follow.

"Your father and I have reached an agreement that benefits you," he said with the same slur to his speech that he had used when speaking to Lucius. "I hope you are proud, Draco; but the agreement requires discretion. I expect this from you."  
  
He waited for anything Draco might have to say before leading him from the room to the hall, just a short walk to where Hermione waited on the floor, looking frightened and rather compliant...messy. More than that, and he dropped his head as he fought to cap the darker urges that this particular vision of her brought forward.  
  
He motioned to her, closing his eyes tightly in a move that may have seemed like the ultimate surrender of an otherwise proud man; "Take her," he said in an almost broken voice, opening his eyes but not lifting them from the carpet.

  
Draco followed Snape eagerly, and the sight he was met with was spectacular. Granger, at the end of her rope, on her knees before him. He looked to the older man, nodding in the girl's direction as he spoke.

"She is mine? Is that what you are trying to say?" He approached her, circling her like a foul bird of prey, his eyes roaming over every inch of her that he could see.

"She is mine, Snape?" He came to stand directly in front of Hermione, looking down at her, his expression nearly too dark to read. With a sharp motion, he reached forward with his right hand and pulled her up off her knees by her hair. Draco looked over his shoulder at Snape as he then twisted his fingers in her wavy, tangled hair and pulled back harshly causing her to choke a bit in a sudden attempt to continue breathing. The severe angle Draco had pulled her head and neck back at was painful, causing her to wince openly and attempt falling back to her knees; but Draco would not let her. He simply continued to eye Snape as he hurt her, jerked her around.  
  
"Tell me she is mine, Snape." He looked back to Granger, his complete attentions and thoughts now on her and her alone. "I will remove that old man's name, and replace it with my own." He leaned in closer to her face. "Only I won't be as generous with the healing process; I think I shall let them bleed for a few days instead of giving you the comfort of simple scars." He was not only buzzed from the drink he had earlier in the dining room, but also high on the power and position he was being given.

Hermione still had her wand, its handle in her palm with the rest tucked back up in her sleeve. She casually shot a glance at Snape, who was watching the two with a horrible expression; unreadable from such a distance but it gave her reason to worry all the same. _Get this over with._  
  
" _Expelliarmus!_ " With a swift flick, she had removed her wand and pointed it directly at the pocket in his robes she knew Malfoy kept his wand in, after having seen him place there it many times in the past. The wand flew from his pocket, flipping through the air in a near graceful manner before landing on the floor at Snape's feet. She looked up into his eyes finally. _We've done it..._

 _  
_Snape took one step forward, stepping on the wand and setting the full brunt of his anger on Draco. How dare he treat her as he had; he had known he would be forced to allow it to a degree, but it did nothing but stir a tremendous amount of anger and darkness within him. _  
_

"She is... _mine_ ," he said savagely, teeth bared and face reddened with anger. He raised his arm quickly and cast his Obliviate, doing his best to keep from casting the unforgivable he truly wanted to cast. He picked up Malfoy's wand, storming forward to shove it into his robe pocket less than gently.

"Mr. Malfoy, your father is expecting you," he told the boy as he gripped his arm tightly, escorting him out of the room in such a way as to prevent him from being able to look back at Hermione.

"You should be more careful with your liquor," he hissed as he opened the door to the lounge, where Lucius was standing by the bottle of scotch, glass in hand as he sipped from it.

"Now that all has been verified in order?" Severus began, clasping his hands before him, his expression changing to one of patience and interest.

"Yes, of course," Lucius said looking toward Draco curiously before setting the glass on the table and retrieving his cane. "Narcissa awaits, and it is rather late. You must come to the manor, Severus. It has been too long, and now that we have our business resolved you should not feel as though you are a stranger."

Lucius swept past the darker man, stopping before his son. "Come along, Draco," he said as he tapped the boy on the shoulder with his cane. "We're leaving." With a final nod to Severus he swept to the door, waiting for his son to follow before apparating back to the manor.

Draco's expression continued to show his confusion as he was led from the room, down the hall, and then into the doorway of the lounge where his father was waiting. He flexed the fingers of his right hand; they felt cramped or as if he had been gripping something tightly. A few long, wavy brown hairs fell from his hand as he did so, but he did not notice them.

He ran a hand through his hair, making sure all was in order as his father and Snape spoke briefly. He frowned when the cane met his shoulder, but said nothing as he followed behind his father and left the house for the manor, his mind still a bit foggy on what had happened. He would speak with his father about it once back at the manor.  
  
  
The door had closed once the two men left the study, the elf nervously following them. Which left Hermione alone, back on her knees but with a splitting headache, her wrists still bound with the strand of light attached to a spot on the floor in front of her. She sighed heavily, but it was a sigh of relief.

 _We really did it. It worked..._ Snape had appeared completely irate with Malfoy, no doubt the drinks he had previously had only helped in allowing his anger to show violently. She finally allowed her mind to wander back to the man, and what would happen next between them. Her wand was on the floor in front of her, just a little ways from where the strand of light was collected at the floor.

He let the elf close the door as he slouched against the wall, motioning to the study door. "Release her," he told the elf as he leaned his head back; the excitement of the evening all but enhanced the effects of the alcohol as he leaned his head back, closing his eyes as he waited to hear the door open. Once it was done, he walked rather unevenly down the hall, gripping the doorframe as he watched the elf do as he was bid.  
  
"You may return to your room," he said quietly before drawing away from the door, his goal to reach his own room, and the potions within the cabinet- or maybe just sleep. Unfortunately, upon entering the room and walking unsteadily to the cabinet, he found himself unable to open it for some odd reason- until he remembered the charm. It would not do to ingest something rather noxious when he was impaired. "Damn," he said as he turned to lean against it, rubbing his face with his hands.

Hermione gathered herself once the elf released her, and picked up her wand. She straightened her clothes and hair as best she could as she walked to Snape's room, holding the wand down by her side. Of course she wasn't going to her room, not that easily at least. She still buzzed from her nerves and all that had happened.  
  
She stopped at his door, watching him for a moment. "Are you okay?" Her eyes looked from him to the case that had held her wand, its top wide open still. She entered the room, and set her wand on the end of his bed, then took a step or two back to look at him once more.  
  
"It worked, didn't it?"

He stilled at the sound of her voice, lowering his hands slowly and noticing that she set her wand down. "I am... intoxicated, apparently." He straightened as he reached out a hand toward the bed, following it as he set himself upon it carefully.

"We will know more tomorrow. Lucius was rather unhappy, but he seemed to take to it well enough; Draco may not remember his name." He narrowed his eyes as he looked at her- not in anger, but in an effort to focus on her. "You may return to your room if you wish. You need not remain, I have no need of a nursemaid."

“I am not a nursemaid," she replied quietly, watching his expression for any sign of continued anger or frustration with her. For the moment, he seemed only to be bothered by the amount of liquor he had consumed. She wanted to say something about it, but continued to hold her tongue on the subject.

"I'd rather stay with you, if you don't mind." Hermione took a seat next to him on the bed, her wand falling against her thigh as she did so. She picked it up and held it out by the tip, handle presented to him.  
  
"Could...I make you something, to feel better? Or is there anything specific you'd like from your cabinet?" Her voice was soft; she did not want to cause his head to hurt any more than it might already be, not to mention hers.

  
He accepted the wand, turning it in his hands before setting it on the bedside table- though he missed the table, and it fell to the floor. He didn't notice it, or ignored it, laying back on the bed and closing his eyes. The room was spinning, and he closed his eyes as he concentrated on making it stop- though he was not even close to becoming ill. 

"I cannot open it," he told her with a lazy flick of a finger toward the cabinet. "A precautionary ward, but I am well." He reached up and touched her shoulder, drawing his hand down her arm slowly, watching the progress with an odd fascination. "Why did you try to leave, after I asked you to trust me?" he asked, leaving his hand laying on hers. "I am most curious."

  
Hermione watched as he took the wand, toying with it, then attempting to set it on a table only to miss. She ignored it as well, for the time being, instead returning her attention to him. She was unsure of how she should act with him being in such a state. Her stomach jumped as he touched her, making her nervous all over again. His question only made it worse. She looked away, back in front of her at the floor.

"I am worried about my friends. I continue to worry about them, don't you understand?" She turned her hand over under his and twisted at the waist to look back at him. "I'm sorry. But, I'm here now. You opened the door to let me go, and I stayed. You gave me my wand, but I did not harm you nor try to. Do _you_ now trust _me?_ "

  
“No, I do not understand," he answered, watching as she moved to face him. "They have never been my friends." Ironic that these friends of hers would be people he had grown up with; and in that instant their age difference became entirely apparent. At this point, however, he could not care less.

"Do I trust you?" he somewhat repeated as he turned to look at the ceiling, remaining silent for a long time. "I trust no one," he said as he reached out and pulled her to him, simply holding her as he closed his eyes. "I prefer to live..." His words trailed off as he relaxed, and in a few minutes his grip loosened slightly as his breathing evened out and he fell asleep.


	16. Sixteen

Hermione did not resist him as he pulled her down to his side, instead settling into him, her head resting in the crook of his arm and her hand coming to lay on his chest lightly. Her eyes trailed from her hand on his chest to the table beside the bed, then slowly she looked around the side of the room she was facing. _He is falling asleep...What should I do?_  
  
It could have been his complete downfall. Hermione was wide awake and sober, her wand on the floor waiting for her to pick it up and use the chance she was presented. Escape was once more a possibility, as was hexing him, even altering his memory as he had just done to Malfoy and his father. But, she had lost her desire to harm him completely. Escape meant danger, very grave danger. She would have to hide out constantly until she could find her friends, and even then it would take a lot of effort to prove she was who she said and appeared to be. That was, if she could even find them. If they were even alive. The thought did not rest well on her stomach, and made her head hurt worse.  
  
Slowly, she adjusted herself until she could look up at his face. He appeared to be so very tired. She softly lifted her hand from his chest, reaching out over him to hold it over the floor beside the bed. Her wand lifted from the floor to her palm as she continued to watch his face. When he did not react, she took a steady breath and sat up slowly. Silently, she then conjured a thick blanket for him, making sure he was completely covered before standing up and walking softly from the room and down the hall.  
  
"Eileen?" Hermione had returned to the woman's study; she had been quite confused and nothing had been completely explained to her. "Eileen? It's Hermione...I'd like to talk to you, about earlier." The elf stood just inside the door, having followed Hermione from Snape's room. He appeared to be confused about the new situation, but not nervous or scared.

  
Eileen had been pacing in her paintings, moving one to the next to try to catch a word, a sound, but it had been in vain. All she could do was wait, and worry the cuffs of her sleeve as she did.

  
The sound of Hermione's voice caused her to run to the painting nearest to the girl. "My son, what of him? Is he safe?" she asked, her hands pressed to the edge of the frame. "You must explain this to me, Hermione. All of it, I don't understand. What is going on, what am I not being told?" There was no anger in her voice, or at least not at the moment; only the same concern that was written so clearly upon her face.

“He is fine- he's asleep, or at least I think he is." Hermione offered, again, an apologetic smile towards the woman. It appeared she was right in wanting to return to Eileen and explain things; she would have been worrying all night long.

"I..." She sighed, deciding that she would tell Eileen everything. It was only right, after all. She walked to the chair she had sat in previously and took a seat, though she did not relax into it.  
  
"I'm sorry, for earlier. Malfoy had shown up. And, well, Snape had been drinking. A lot. I...I ran. I just did not want to be there. I was scared." Hermione cast her eyes down, away from Eileen's. _I did not trust him when he had asked me to._

"He has told you- about the Order, Voldemort...what happened five years ago, correct?" She only paused for a moment before continuing. "Harry's dead. More than half of us are dead. Lucius Malfoy is Minister of Magic...which means we are wanted. Snape and Malfoy found us, Ginny and I were captured. Um, Malfoy took her and Snape took me. You must understand, how things have been until now." She leaned forward, looking in to Eileen's eyes.  
  
"He was my professor. I had...I trusted him when everyone else around me would not. I held out hope that he wasn't..." Hermione was beginning to feel lost for words. How could she possibly explain it all? She sighed, putting her face in her hands. "Despite it all, I fell for him. Here, once he had me- was holding me prisoner. And...he seemed to be returning those feelings. But, I," she shook her head, finally dropping her hands from her face, "I just...I ran. And it very nearly ruining everything."  
  
She looked up at the woman, nearing tears once more with having to verbally explain what had happened, and how she felt. "He let me go. After he took me from this room, he let me go. But...I couldn't. I couldn't leave. He left me there, on the porch, but I came back in. And I offered him a plan; an idea, to fix what had happened with Malfoy. And, it worked. He trusted me, even after I ran. He gave me my wand," she said, turning it over her hand, showing Eileen the wand, "and working together, we fixed the issue. He altered their memories, both Lucius and Draco's, and they left. Snape- he is so tired, and all that scotch did nothing to improve that. I was with him, in his room. I gave my wand back, but he simply set it aside on a table, or tried to. He was holding me, and...well, I think he fell asleep.  
  
“I covered him with a blanket before leaving to come talk to you. I knew you were worried, and confused." Hermione leaned forward more, looking up at Eileen, her emotions reflected so clearly as she spoke. "I am so sorry."

  
Eileen listened as she settled onto the seat behind her, taking in every word, every nuance as Hermione spoke. Her professor; she could just imagine what that was like, being a child in his classes, knowing his nature as she did. But the wand in her hand- certainly explained by the drinking and the need to correct this situation. The fact that he had taken steps against the Malfoy family spoke volumes. "If he had not fallen asleep, you would know."

Her eyes were distant, held to something on her skirt as she brushed it absently; processing every word she heard. "This house has always been difficult to live in," she said as she raised her eyes to the ceiling, looking over the walls before offering a sad, but oddly cold look to Hermione. "It was rarely a happy, loving home." She pointed to a nearby table that held a small, very thin book that turned out to be a photo album. Included within were pictures of Severus from his infancy to the last photo; an eleven year old Severus managing to look pleased and yet somewhat angry in his new Hogwarts robes, not a house symbol in sight. "He was very strong willed as a young child, and again as he grew into a young man. When I took him to the train that day, I had no idea..."  
  
She straightened, pulling herself together as her almost wistful tone returned to something more solid, more detached. "You must understand that he is so very like his father in many ways, but he is so different; maybe you can see past the dark, maybe you can't. I'm not sure that he can."

  
Hermione stood to pick up the photo album, taking her seat again once she had retrieved it from the table. She silently looked through the album, not noticing the soft smiles she would give at certain photographs; seeing him so young, all of them before his time at Hogwarts, except for the last. It reminded her of the photo she had found. As she turned over the last page, she noticed one more photograph, facing down and stuck between the page and the back cover of the book. It was a muggle photograph, but unlike the others it showed not only Snape and Eileen, but also a man she could only assume to be his father. _I'll look at this more later..._

"Hold on," she said, and left the room, leaving the album in the chair until she returned. In her hand was the photo from her room. She held it out to show Eileen. "I found this, in a hidden wall compartment in the room I was being held in downstairs. Would you happen to know why he was hiding it?" Hermione sat down again, putting the album in her lap and her wand on the table next to her.

  
Eileen leaned forward to look more closely at the picture, wishing she could reach out and take it. "This was hidden in a wall?"

She didn't move, just reached out almost as though she would touch it, knowing there was no way to do so. "He was sorted by then, so it's after...I'm not sure that I recognize the house, it is certainly not this one. But I do think that was the age when they began...when he made his decision to do what he did, to join them." She looked sharply at Hermione, heading off any questions. "Yes, I do know. I did not for quite some time, but I did discover it."

  
Hermione finally lowered the photo, placing it beside her in the chair. She would return it to its proper location after her and Eileen’s conversation was through.

"I know what happened, and what choices he was forced to make. And I have a fairly good idea on why he did what he did in the first place." Hermione was thinking back to the memory Harry had told her about years ago.  
  
"But it doesn't matter anymore. I trust him; always have and from the looks of it, will continue to do so." She paused to judge the woman's expression before continuing. "He set me free, and I came back. I," she breathed out, her resolve to remain calm and not to cry continued creeping away faster and faster, leaving her in a weakened emotional state- more so than it already was.  
  
"He gave my wand back, and fell asleep with me laying against him and my wand just a few feet away. I asked if he trusted me now, after all that. He could only say that he trusts no-one; that he prefers to live. Yet, he gives my wand back, lets me roam the house and talk to you; even falls asleep while I am in the same room, wand and all. Wouldn't you call that trust, on some level?"  
  
Hermione browsed through the album again, running her thumb lightly over certain photographs here and there. She looked up to Eileen again.  
  
"What is going to happen to me? What situation am I in, now? I don't know what to do..."

  
“On some level, yes," she answered as she stood, pacing slowly in her frame as she raised her hand to her mouth as she thought over everything the younger woman told her.

"Apparently Lucius is the one who, in Severus' youth, assisted in convincing him that this life of his was indeed a good idea. My son has always been an angry young man, and not without reason; but I digress."

She stopped walking as she turned to face Hermione, clasping her hands before her. "Therefore, understand what he has done this night. He has altered the memory of an old friend, who is also the Minister of Magic as well as one of the Dark Lord's most trusted. He tampered with the memory of the boy he had vowed to protect. If the Dark Lord discovers this, he may be displeased- he may not care, as it is trivial by comparison I suppose. This was a grand gesture; he has taken this risk once before, for a man you knew. The question here would be this; what risk are you willing to take for him?"

She returned to her seat, still appearing to think things through carefully. "With Severus, one must watch his actions more closely than his words. He fell asleep with you in the room, with your wand. I doubt even scotch could make him so unaware, regardless of the amount he had to drink," she said with a frown. It was not normal for him to drink a great deal, but with all things considered she didn't need to wonder why. "He will remember this night, don't think he won't. What he will look for are signs of duplicity from you. Clearly he cares...I can't believe the risk he has taken." Her last words were nearly whispered as she trailed off, remaining silent for several minutes before lifting her eyes to Hermione's.  
  
"Five years ago, he did something that nearly broke him," she began, her voice soft but quite serious. "That man was more than an employer, and it was at that man's own request, his demand that it was done. This I know as he stood in this room and discussed it with my son at one point- yes, I knew him. He was the transfiguration teacher when I attended the school- still, you have no idea. If he is drunk, it is the first time in as many years.

“Regardless... if you are going to leave him, do it now. Right now, wait no longer; don't allow him to become any more attached, any more possessive if you are going to abandon him. He will be hurt and angry, but better now than waiting until he actually begins to return affections with soft gestures."

  
Hermione had gone completely still and silent, her hands pausing on a random page in the album as Eileen spoke. She knew what and who the woman was speaking of, her expression showing no confusion or worry over the subject. So, it _had_ been as she had thought it to be. The confirmation caused her insides to settle, her conscious finally feeling clear from the other night and her attraction and feelings for Snape. _I knew it..._

But, what Eileen spoke of after was what shook her, causing her to close the album and lean forward as she listened.  
  
"Why would I leave him...He gave me the chance, and I chose to remain." Hermione knew what she had meant, though. If it was safe to be away from him, would she still remain? The thought caused her to sit in silence for a short while, thinking carefully and weighing her emotions.  
  
Eileen was right; he had taken a tremendous risk, and for what? Simply to continue holding her prisoner on a whim? No. He had protected her, and seemed to show a desire to continue doing so. Yes, he had done painful things to her, both emotionally and physically, and she would be lying to say a few things still did not bother her. But, all in all...  
  
"What risk am I willing to take," she started, eyes finally focusing once more on the others, "Any risk that I must. I am not going to leave- I will never abandon him."

  
Eileen visibly relaxed as she heard the last answer. "How I hope you keep your word," she answered softly as she held her head in her hands for a moment. "For now, you should decide whether you are going to return to him this night, or return to...wherever he has allowed you to live- which is a question I am interested in having answered, of course."

She waved her hand, looking at the book resting in Hermione's lap. "Save him from it," she whispered, "if you can. He's falling; he has forgotten himself, I think."  
  
She stood and walked to the chaise in the back of the painting, taking the throw from the back, tucking it over her arms as she turned to Hermione once more. "Please come visit again," she offered, lingering for a moment before settling onto the chaise, spreading the throw over her skirt and legs, preparing to rest for a time.

  
“Oh- I'm...not completely sure where, um. It's down a narrow stairwell, and has a small window near the ceiling. There is a small door to a washroom on the opposite wall from the window."

Hermione stood, setting the photo album back on the table and turned to Eileen with a soft smile. She did enjoy the company, and the conversations. The woman was pleasant, and Hermione was more than grateful for her providing more insight into Snape's past, and who he was in general.

 _"Please come visit again."_  
  
"I will," she said softly before turning to get her wand from the chair and leave the room, quietly closing the door behind her.  
  
She stood in Snape's doorway for a few minutes, listening to his steady and deep breathing. His room really did have an elegant touch, though still simple and to the point. It was nice, and overall rather comfortable. Not what she would have imagined, though the style in furniture was close.  
  
Making sure to be silent, Hermione made her way to the table beside the bed before dousing all but one candle around the room with a few soft, fluid motions. Once she was done, she set down her wand neatly on the table, making sure it would not roll and fall to the floor. She then rounded the bed and sat, slowly sliding over to lay lightly against Snape's side, lifting the blanket to cover herself as well. She watched his face for a moment before closing her eyes and relaxing. The elf stood just inside the room, and after a few minutes silence put out the last candle and closed the door softly.

When the first rays of morning light filtered through the gaps in the curtains, Severus woke to somewhat of a headache, and a feeling that had caused him to pause; the unfamiliar feeling of a body- a warm one, against him, _in his own bed._ He turned to look, somewhat surprised to see Hermione there, her curly hair spread out over his arm and his shoulder as she slept.

He hadn't expected her to be there, beside him. In fact, he hadn't expected to find her in his house at all, truth be told. But she was; she was right there, and he watched her as memories of the previous evening filtered through his mind. She was his, and she proved it... for now.

  
Hermione had laid still most of the night, her mind drifting in and out of sleep calmly. She had only moved once or twice; the first simply to become closer to him and the warmth a second body would give. The second had been of her own desire to be touching him. She had curled her arm with his, holding his arm to her chest as she laid her head against his shoulder, body leaning in slightly to match with his curve. That had been the final touch she needed, to be able to slide into complete sleep until morning.

The morning light had awoken her as well, but she had chosen to ignore it and stay until he wanted to remove himself from her. Hermione continued to lay, silent and unmoving, as she felt Snape turn against her, more than likely to look at her and the position she had taken upon herself to be in with him as they had slept.  
  
She took in a deep and slow breath, remaining still and her eyes closed before addressing him in any manner.  
  
"Good morning. I hope you slept well?" Still, she did not move nor open her eyes.

  
He looked to her hands, and seeing no wand he turned quickly to glance at the table. It sat there, where it had been placed the previous night (or had he dropped it? He remembered reaching toward it at any rate..), and he remained still while he thought it all through. He had slept- with her, in the same room, same bed- her wand within reach, and she had not touched him. He moved to stretch to make sure he could move; everything worked as it should.

"What game is this?" he asked as he rolled over to pin her beneath him, but not violently; his hands upon her forearms in a loose grip as he peered down at her. "Why did you not return to your room?"   
  
He did not look around for the elf, as the whimper and the pop told him all he needed to know; but he was not angry. Far from it, in fact; it was the best sleep he had experienced in a long time, and short of a minor potion, he felt well rested.

“Because you gave me the choice," she breathed as she looked up into his eyes and moved her shoulders, to be more centered underneath him. He was being rather gentle though his efforts did prevent her from moving much or in any way be able to push up off the bed. He was warm, the covers still draped over them both keeping the body heat between them inside. She began to feel a small bit of anxiety over what would happen next, after the previous night, and if anything would come from what happened with the Malfoys. But, for the moment, Hermione just let herself enjoy the feel of him against her.

"You told me I could return to my room or stay here. After speaking with your mother- as she was quite confused, I returned here, to you. You had...fallen asleep." She worried at her bottom lip for a moment, not exactly sure what she should do or what he would accept. "I gave my wand back to you. It should be there," she nodded to the side, "on the table."

He knew he probably smelled of alcohol, but she had said nothing- probably wise, from his perspective.   
  
"I see," he said without glancing at the table, since he had already. "It is there, but tell me. What fascinating conversation brought you to her that late at night?" he asked as he brushed her neck with his lips, finding himself more curious as time passed. She left his bed at night to talk- not surprising, considering- it must have been important. "Perhaps I might share in your new found enlightenment."

Hermione turned her head more, allowing him better access to her neck and shoulders. The shirt Virgil had conjured for her the night before was a simple, white button up like the last, only it was not one Snape had worn and then given to her to wear. Even then, the sleeves still covered the tops of her hands down to her fingertips, causing her to think it was simply another one of his shirts.  
  
"She was worried; seeing me in there, bound and then jerked out of the room by you, all sorts of things happening around the house after that. She was quite worried and confused. When you fell asleep, I covered you and went to talk to her about it all."

Hermione took a slow intake of air, attempting to appear calm and stoic though she was never good at hiding her emotions. They usually shone brightly just underneath the skin or in her eyes. She was still nervous about what the day would bring, for them both.  
  
 _"Perhaps I might share in your new found enlightenment."_  
  
"Look if you wish," Hermione whispered, returning her eyes to his completely; her mind already open and ready should he decide that was what he wanted to do. Her hands crept up from the bed to rest on his waist, her right hand softly making its way from his hip to the small of his back, holding him to her even more.

He accepted her invitation without hesitation, positioning himself to watch her memories from a better vantage point. How well she comforted the woman; how well it was done in return. They were clear, and he found himself surprised once more at the girl beneath him; that she would take these steps to ingratiate herself into his life when she was supposed to be afraid. It was disturbing, to say the least- particularly when he caught Eileen's last words.  
  
"I don't need to be saved," he said in a dark tone. "It is a fool's errand, I have not forgotten who I am, I have never forgotten. Do not think to turn me into one of your projects, girl." Even as he said it the vision of his mother telling the girl about the Headmaster, the words shadowing the event as it replayed in his mind.  
  
 _"...he did something that nearly broke him... That man was more than an employer..."_  
  
 _"Severus, please...”_  
  
He pushed away suddenly, slipping from the bed and moving to stand by the bed post, his white-knuckled grip betraying his exterior calm. Had the girl been practicing her skills, and was she able to see it as well, to feel it?   
  
"Go. The elf will tend to you. We will speak before the day is out." He would need to speak with his mother's painting regarding that little tidbit, but for now he wanted to push back the memory before doing anything else.

“Wh-" Hermione started, but before she could even finish the word, he had pushed up off of her and the bed entirely. She had wanted to be honest, as always. She had not responded directly to Eileen's comment on saving him, or how she seemed to think he was forgetting himself. Truth be told, she had anticipated Snape watching the memories of their talk, though it had no direct bearing on her actions or words with Eileen.

His own memory flashed before her, and while she felt she had known the entire time, she felt extremely comforted by the emotions she could also feel tied to his memory of the event.

She sat up, but did not push off of the bed or make any move to leave.  
  
"No."

  
“I am not asking you, I am _telling_ you to leave," he said sharply, cutting his eyes toward her though he made no move to unseat her. She knew too much, she should never have been told the truth of that night. She had known, but now he found this situation to be even more of a mess than his ordinary daily dealings with the Dark Lord and the others- not to mention the fact that it was far more dangerous should that memory be seen in her mind. 

"I believe you will lose that memory," he growled, finally turning and taking her by the arm to drag her from the bed if need be. "I'll not be compromised again; I have risked enough." 

  
She braced herself against his actions, her fingers twisting in the covers that lay about her. It was far from how she had hoped things would go that morning. Her wand still laid on the table; she did not attempt nor think on retrieving it.

"No, I will not leave. You always do this, don't you?" Hermione jerked her arm, attempting to shake him off for a moment. "Like I said last night; you run when things get too close. Why are you constantly afraid?"

She had repositioned herself on to her knees and began backing further on the bed, away from the end. "What is it you are so scared of in me? Why does it frighten you so much for me to learn about you? I already knew what she told me, so don't be upset with her."

  
He stopped, stilling completely when she pulled herself from his grip. "I am not afraid, foolish girl. It is not fear, it is the simple desire for privacy. Do not flatter yourself, convince yourself that it is you that I fear."

But it was his apparent weakness for her that was the problem. After the previous night he could scarcely deny that he had one; Obliviating an old friend and his son, as his mother had mentioned. Great lengths to keep her, and why? Why was it difficult to throw her back into that room and forget that she existed there, like he ought to do. Then again, if she truly wanted to know him, perhaps that was exactly what he should allow.  
  
"You wish to understand me, to know me," he said in a low, soft voice as he approached her slowly. "Very well, Miss Granger, you may have your way. Do not say you were not given the opportunity to avoid it, that you were not warned."

With that he pulled her to him tightly as he looked at her, his guard somewhat relaxed as he grabbed her hair, pulling her head back to look up at him. "There will never be another betrayal," he told her, crushing her to him for the sort of kiss that told her exactly what he wanted.

  
Hermione opened her mouth to respond; to tell him that it was not her she was implying he was afraid of, but of her coming to know him, growing close to him. But he pulled her to him before she could speak, capturing her mouth with a passionate and overly demanding kiss. She had not expected such a reaction, which was clear by the way she almost toppled out of the bed, how her lungs froze and how her eyes remained open throughout the entire kiss.

She let her body fall against his for support until she could once more gather her legs underneath her and keep her balance on her own. Her hands went to his shoulders, but she did not wrap her arms around his neck like she wanted to. Instead, she gripped the material of his clothes tightly and leaned further in. Her headache (which was a lingering pain from the previous night) was only made worse by his fingers twisting in her hair, continuing to keep her head pulled back. But she did not wince, nor did she protest a single motion or gesture, instead finally returning the deep kiss as she closed her eyes.  
  
"Not afraid of me; afraid of what I mean to you," she managed to breathe against his lips, his grip on her hair and entire body remaining firm as she spoke then returned to the kiss.

  
“What you mean to me," he whispered against her lips as he released her hair, lifting her to lean over her. "Certain death if Lucius recovers his memory," he breathed, returning his attentions to her pale throat, having full intent of re-claiming her this morning. "Let us hope that does not happen."

How could he refuse? Why would he wish to surrender the willing witch in his arms; one who stood with him to correct a problem that was- admittedly, started by her? She assisted, she corrected it, and she slept the night in his room, his bed and- even more amazingly, she did not hex or try to kill him.  
  
No, he was not parting with her. Instead he planned to take his time with her, to explore her, to make her his with more than just a physical mark. He had told her from the start she would be his; it was this edge of...something...that he didn't expect to feel. He closed his eyes as he whispered her given name against her lips as he moved to claim them once more, to claim her once more- provided she did not push him away.

  
She did not attempt to respond, nor to escape his actions. In the same fashion as the night before last, Hermione bent to his physical commands willingly. She was completely sober however, unlike the first time, and they were in his room- his bed. It was far more enjoyable, she felt, and there was something different in the way he treated her. His touch was slightly more gentle, and his voice had a certain undertone that was not present before.

Hermione curled against him, her head once more resting in the crook of his arm with her hand on his chest as they lay in bed together, hours later. Her mind drifted between daydreams of her days at Hogwarts and summers spent with her parents and friends.


	17. Seventeen

It was a completely sobering experience. Not that he had never been intimate before- even with this young lady. The act in and of itself was better than the last; they had taken their time- or he had. As it turned out, the entire event had been positively sublime, so much more than a simple physical act and release. It brought things he could not identify to the surface, and it left him puzzled. He was content. For the moment at least, and it was a strange experience indeed.  
  
She lay against him, her hair spread over his arm; her fingers resting lightly on his chest, moving only when he breathed. He could feel it, her desire; he didn't need to look in her eyes to see it, as he felt it in her touch. The surge of possessiveness that struck him was oddly powerful, and he knew with very little uncertainty what the future held for him. There was no way the Malfoys were going to take this from him, not if he could prevent it- as he had done the previous night.  
  
Yet her admonition to him remained.   
  
_"Not afraid of me; afraid of what I mean to you..."_  
  
Perhaps she was more correct than she knew. Clearly she meant more to him than he let on- more than he had realized himself. Trying to push it back into a dark corner, to leave it; wishing it to wither away and die.  
  
He would not show such a weakness. There was no way he could be a gentle, considerate... Merlin, it gave him a headache thinking on it. He was who he was, and there would be no changing.  
  
"You begin to see," he offered quietly, looking at the ceiling as he lay still. "Do you have any idea the danger this puts the two of us in?" Not that he would change it. "I may not feel up to hunting the others," he all but whispered, closing his eyes as he relaxed.

Hermione's fingers curled and uncurled softly against Snape's chest as she listened to him speak. All her clothes lay on the floor beside the bed, in front of the table, her wand still untouched (but not forgotten) resting on the top near the edge.  
  
The act had been marvelous. Yes, it was quite a bit different than the first time. One minor detail she appreciated was the lack of soreness and pain. It was still a bit touch and go at first, but overall she had enjoyed it- enjoyed herself far more than the last. She could only assume it would continue to improve- that is, if what they shared between one another continued as well.

It was no longer a one-sided affair; he had shown her far too much. She knew better, and planned to use such knowledge to her full advantage though plans of escape were no longer a real concern to her. The future was, indeed, quite unclear for the couple. But Hermione felt, come what may, they would make it. Somehow.  
  
His words had brought her out from the hazy daydreams, but she did not move or open her eyes.  
  
 _"I may not feel up to hunting the others..."_ The phrase washed over her like extremely warm water or a blanket covering her that had been warmed by a fireplace previously. Was that it, then? Was he telling her that he would not assist in hunting down her friends, now? The notion in itself made her want to smile, but she held it in.  
  
"And what of the Polyjuice? And the hair samples from me that you are keeping?" Her questions were meant to understand the situation further; not to press any buttons or anything of the sort. Her tone was barely above a whisper, and she did not move or open her eyes while speaking. "What of my wand? Will you lock it away, again?"

What indeed. He had no intention of destroying his leverage; it wasn't as though one night built a lifetime of trust. The one night's actions were due to her actions, her mistrust. To dispose of the hair would be entirely too foolish, and Severus was not a fool.  
  
"Do not concern yourself with the hair any longer," he told her, realizing that he could use it without her knowledge. His job need not be impeded, and if following through were to be required, he would. He wasn't planning to die, nor sacrifice his hard-earned position within.  
  
"As for the wand, I shall think on it." At minimum there were tracing wards, perhaps some restrictive spells to prevent her from doing anything against him. "Before you ask, I might allow you into the lab with me from time to time, but only with my guidance."

She opened her eyes as he spoke, and slowly repositioned her head to look up at his face. His answer on the hair told her all she needed to know; Hermione knew him well enough, and it meant he would be keeping it. For her to continue thinking on it would be bothersome, for both parties involved. She did not believe him to have gone soft, after all.  
  
"I would like that." She continued to look at him, wondering how long he would allow them to lay like that, or if he was enjoying himself as she was.

Time passed, as it invariably does, and the following evening found Severus in the study he had built for his mother's paintings. She had set her book upside down on her lap, watching him with a mixture of concern and curiosity as she remained perfectly still, waiting for him to speak once more.  
  
"It was a weakness, and a temporary one at that," he said quietly, swirling the drink held lightly in his hand. "Nothing more." The amber liquid reflected the firelight, and he watched the flickering glow almost absently as memories of recent events flowed through his mind, reviewing them with a sort of detachment. "Do not place more importance upon it than need be."

  
  
"It is unlike you, Severus," Eileen told him. "You do not make mistakes of this magnitude; therefore, it cannot be a mistake."

"It was, and I shall not take such a risk again." He took a sip from the glass before setting it on the table beside him. "She will make the mistake again, and I will not be able to Obliviate them forever. There will come a point in time when the game has ended, and it will not be pleasant. Should Lucius recover his memory, it would be best that we disappear."

"Then do so now," Eileen pressed, leaning forward slightly. "What holds you here, in his service?"

"My _word_ ," he answered savagely, all but leaping to his feet as he began to pace. "I swore an oath to see this through, and I will do precisely that. No soft touches or kind words will change that- particularly those offered for self-preservation. It was an empty gesture."

"They might be heartfelt, my son. Can't you..."

"They are most certainly _not_ ," he spat, turning toward the painting and approaching it rather suddenly. "I was tired, I had been drinking, and I allowed myself a moment's foolishness. I have not been taken in by a mere girl, and it shall not happen again."

Eileen stood, slipping the book to the table beside her settee. "It would not be weak, Severus. Can't you allow yourself one good thing? Not even one person who might actually care?" she asked softly, raising a hand to touch the frame. "Can you honestly tell me that you don't want her?"

He stood for a long moment, gazing at her hand by the frame. Could he? Was it such a horrible thing? But.. what if he was wrong...  
  
"Yes," he answered sharply, bringing his eyes to hers once more. "I can say with no doubt that I do not desire such a weakness. I do not wish to give something to someone who will not appreciate it, nor will I trust another with such things."

Not that the truth had not already been revealed; inside he knew it, but there would be no admitting it. Not the way things were, not with the tasks still upon him. Without another word he left the room, ending the conversation as he normally did when exasperated.

"You lie to yourself, and you did not answer my question," the image said softly before returning to her seat, her book in hand once more, though she was too distracted to actually read. "I said _her_ , not _it_ ," she whispered, a slight smile gracing her lips as she realized that what was not said was more interesting than what he had said- as usual.

Hermione had fallen asleep, laying against him in his bed. She had no dreams during her rest, which was a tad unusual for her. She awoke to no noise, and no sunlight. In fact, it was the silence and near complete lack of lighting that brought her to sit up from the bed and cast around herself. She was still in his bed, under heavy and warm covers, her clothing resting neatly at the foot of the bed. From the way they were folded, it looked like the elf had been tending to her- or at least to her things.  
  
She slowly ran her fingers through her hair, knowing it would do not good but at least it got stubborn strands away from her face. A soft shuffling noise told her the elf was near, and within seconds the room came into view under the soft light of various candles spread about.  
  
"Thank you," she said softly to Virgil, then turned to glance over her shoulder at the table she had laid her wand on. Shockingly, it was still there. Hermione sat, silently gazing at it and thinking back on that morning, and previous night. She did not know what to do anymore. She was not prepared to help her friends, should she escape- or leave. _Do I still have that choice?_  
  
Once dressed, she picked up her wand and set a charm on her hair. The sides gathered in the back, keeping them from falling about her face, while the rest was smoothed out into a more wavy appearance than bushy or frizzed. She looked down at the wand in her hand for a moment, and after a lot of deliberation decided to keep it with her- at least, for the moment.

The elf jerked at the noise of a door closing outside the room and down the hall, and scurried off toward it's source. Hermione followed, and at the end of the hall met with Snape, a rather irritated expression across his face. She paused before extending her hand to him, palm up with her wand handle facing him.

"Do you want it back now, or..." She looked up into his eyes, wondering where his thoughts were and why he had allowed her to sleep in his bed- his _room_ , alone and for the most part unguarded, with her wand beside her.

  
He took the wand from her hand, twisting it in his hands before removing his own. Intricate motions and protective spells were cast; he shoved his own wand into his robe pockets before handing her wand to her with a sharp motion. "You may not harm me, you may not cast against me. You may otherwise use your wand as you see fit."

He took her arm and turned her to face the door, slipping his other hand under her chin to gently hold her attention in that direction. "Death lies beyond that door," he whispered in her ear, "despair and pain await you. There are those who would steal you, subjugate you. You may use that door when you wish, but there will be consequences. If you willingly betray me- let us hope death finds you before I do."  
  
He lifted her chin as he brushed his lips against her ear gently. "Within this house there is life under conditions," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her ear. "I will allow you a great deal of freedom- barring certain company, and you will assist me. You will be trained, taught. The choice is entirely yours..." Another kiss and he released her, pulling his robes around him as he stalked into the other study- the one without the paintings.

  
“ _If you willingly betray me- let us hope death finds you before I do."_

There were very few things Hermione had heard in her life that struck raw, honest to goodness fear into her heart, and what Snape said just then had been one of them. She could never abandon hope; it was simply not in her being to be able to give up. She had to help her friends, at some point, be it death or no. But, she would need to be prepared to take on what the wizarding world had so suddenly become.

She had been given no warning, no time to adapt nor fight. No time to even attempt fighting it. She would need to take her time, there in Snape's home under his care or, as he claimed it to be, his protection. And it was that, basically. Protection. Though, she was not to be naive enough to believe the gesture was out of caring or any sort of soft emotion. It was a gesture of selfishness, greed, and power.

Hermione nodded softly at his words, holding her wand loosely at her side as she looked where he directed her to look. The soft touches from his fingers and lips both washed over her slowly, giving her goosebumps though she repressed the small shiver that threatened to run down her back.

She turned to him as he released her and walked away, seemingly to retreat into the first study without so much as a glance back at her, or direction as to what she was to do next. Her fingers closed tighter around her wand, and she found herself wondering what he had done to it, and if it would actually prevent her from casting against him. The matter did not seem worth the consequences if she were to test it, so she slipped the wand into the waist of her skirt and followed his lead into the study.

"Will you elaborate on my boundaries," Hermione asked, standing just inside the doorway of the study, "and what exactly you will be teaching me?"


	18. Eighteen

“The four exterior walls," he answered, turning toward her as he snapped his fingers. The elf appeared with a tea tray, placing it on the side table before vanishing again.   
  
"The places I do not wish to allow will not be open to you. There is one more that you might wish to see, and it will be open to you until I have a reason to ward it differently."

He walked to the side wall, one lined with book shelves and no windows. He withdrew his wand, whispered an incantation and tapped the shelf- they vanished, revealing a wall with double doors with oval etched glass in the center of them. He twisted the old-fashioned handle and opened them revealing a rather large greenhouse. Brick floors, wrought iron, frosted glass walls- though the ceiling was perfectly clear, and the sky was visible through it. It was generally temperate, though there were two sections in the back with different environs whose temperatures were held magically; one tropical, and one nearly Arctic. Both were filled with exotic plants. It was neat, clean, and organised not only for function and convenience, but oddly enough it was attractive.

Not to mention the small seating area in the left side of the room (and the one almost hidden in the tropical area); two chairs, a table and a picture frame mounted upon an easel. A painting of a luxurious lounge surrounded by tropical plants in a bright, sunny room quite similar to this one was set in such a way as to be perfectly visible from the chairs, almost like a third seat.  
  
"This is an extension to the house, not visible from the exterior," he told her as he walked through the garden house, gazing at various plants as he passed them. "It is a wizarding extension; should an attack of any sort come upon this house, you may hide here. The wards will not allow any others to see these doors; they will be perfectly solid shelves. Anyone within here, they will remain doors and your view of the room will not be obstructed." He motioned to her, or more precisely to where he believed her wand to be stored, "You may gain entry on your own until and unless you prove that it is not deserved."   
  
He walked through slowly, motioning to the occasional breaks to point out the fact that the building was almost as wide as the house, and filled with tables covered in plants of all sorts- but not in a disorganized, messy way. Beneath the tables rested plants that required shade or darkness; on the edges were small trees of all sorts, and beneath them were plants that required indirect lighting. All in all, it was more of a garden than a greenhouse.  
  
"I will teach you proper care of these plants," he said as he moved to lift the white flowers of a Danish Elderberry flower, searching for the actual berries themselves. Still young on this plant, but visible, growing. "I will teach you how and when to harvest your ingredients, and the proper preparation for storage." He looked to her over his shoulder, wondering just how surprised she would be to find something like this here. "I do hope you excelled in Herbology as well, as you will need that talent here."

  
Hermione again listened to Snape in silence, not taking her gaze off of him the entire time. She watched as he revealed the hidden room to her, openly taking curious steps toward the entrance as he himself entered and began to tell her about it. As she neared, she could indeed see on what a grand scale the place was. It would be odd to call it simply a room, it was more like a second house entirely. She stood gazing in, eyes a bit wide as she tried to take it all in. She not only wondered at the various sections of the green house, but also at the ceiling. She felt she had not seen the actual sky in a while, let alone the blue of the sky or the faint wisps of clouds high above.

"This is amazing," she whispered more or less to herself as she slowly entered the garden, still looking about herself in wonderment, even a bit of admiration for the man for having such a place.  
  
She eventually noticed the seating area, and the painting. She had just opened her mouth to ask if Eileen ever went there when he began to speak of her ability to access the green house, and of its use as a stronghold should an attack fall on the household. Again, he was showing his possessive tendencies, though this time it came off as protection. Hermione nodded softly and moved further into the garden, taking the time to turn and take a few steps backwards as she again looked at the plants she had already passed before turning back around and stopping a few feet from him.  
  
"I- Yes, it was an enjoyable class. Though Professor Sprout had nothing near this...interesting for us." Hermione absently smoothed out the front of her shirt and skirt as she looked from him again around to all the plants.

  
“All these plants are useful," he said as he motioned to the various plants near them. "Not one of these are purely decorative, every part has a use, a purpose. Even the bark from the trees. But there is a proper time to harvest it, and a proper way. This you will learn- do not pick flowers if you find them attractive. Again, they have a purpose." He admonished her with a look before turning to inspect various flora at his leisure.

"I do not keep animals. They require far too much care, and are too easily obtainable, so do not expect to find any." He looked up toward the sky before looking back to the plant at hand before moving on. "I am particular when it comes to my stores; the condition matters greatly, as you should know." He stopped, facing her as he crossed his arms. "Choose a plant, tell me what you think you know about it. Amaze me, Miss Granger."

  
She watched him as he spoke, holding his gaze as long as she could before he turned his face from her and set about inspecting the state of some plants near him. As he did this, she too looked about her again at the wide variety of plant life. Surprise had left her, but admiration and curiosity remained.

Hermione lifted her eyes yet again to his as he picked the conversation back up. It sent a small shiver down her spine when he challenged her, daring her on a far less severe than usual level to prove her knowledge to him. She had never turned down such a chance before, and she certainly was not about to then.

"Alright," she said, turning to look closely at the plants nearest to them, but a few rows over a particular weed caught her eye, and without hesitation she set off towards it. Once there, she looked it over quickly before turning back to Snape. She then began without waiting for so much as a nod, going on about everything from it's uses, appearance, and origins to how it was discovered- by whom, and what mistakes were commonly made in not only identifying it but also in how it was collected and stored. She allowed herself this pleasure, even relaxing enough to the point of using various hand motions to better explain what she was saying here and there. She did not want to stop; he was, for the first time, allowing her to prove herself to him. Allowing her- no, _inviting_ her, to be a 'know-it-all' without insults, docked points or harsh reprimands for such behavior.  
  
The sky moved on above them as she continued, the clouds closing in on the last bits of sky remaining. Before long, it was apparent it was going to rain. The grey, overcast sky made the greenhouse stand out in such dull weather and lighting, the plants seeming to anticipate the approaching rain. Finally, the misting of rain started to appear, followed quickly by the heavy falling drops.

Hermione finished, looking into his eyes for acceptance or any sign that he might have been content or pleased with her verbal essay, the rain beginning to fall furiously around them and the greenhouse. The sky glowing here and there with distant lightning, the low rumble of thunder reaching their ears.

  
He listened to every single word she said- and there were many, just waiting for the opportunity to correct her. She didn't give him the chance, instead her knowledge turned out to be rather impressive. She was right on many counts, and as he had always done when she was right he remained silent, his expression inscrutable as she finished her explanation.

Not a word was spoken as he turned away, leaving the garden whether she followed or not. When he stood just inside the doorway he turned once more, his brows furrowed as he waited.

"Have you sense enough to come out of the rain?" he asked before turning and entering the sitting room and casting a drying spell. Had he not wanted the plants watered the rain would never have entered the greenhouse; why pay for water when it was falling for free? Though the colder sections had spells to prevent icy coating from forming on the plants, killing them.

  
Hermione's shoulders jerked as the cold rain was let through the ceiling, the large drops falling even more furiously as the seconds progressed. She was quite soaked by the time he had left, and for the noise of the storm she could not hear what he said well though she made no attempt to call out to him or ask him to repeat what he had said. She followed suit and stepped back into the den, wand already out and ready to quickly cast a drying spell once inside. After casting another such spell on the floor where she had stood, she tucked her wand away and ran a hand over her hair to make sure everything was in order.

He did not appear to be disappointed in her verbal essay, and it was obvious he still refused to give praise or anything outside of a neutral expression and the familiar silence. She wished for once he could manage a 'job well done', or a simple 'good' even. Such things, however, she knew would require far more on her part than an accurate spiel on her knowledge of a random plant. She mentally shrugged the matter off and entered the room further, watching his expression as she neared him.  
  
"We still have an entire evening ahead of us," she stated plainly, "What am I to do now?"

  
Severus halted, not looking back toward the girl that he had spent far too much time with. Draco was right, he was becoming soft toward her; it was a costly mistake for him to have witnessed that moment. No more, not again; he had told his mother that she was incorrect, and he would not be proven wrong. And yet...

He turned slightly, looking over his shoulder toward her through the curtain of dark hair, his eyes reflecting none of the warmth that he had shown her earlier on. "You are to do as you wish, provided I am not interrupted. Again, rooms that I deem off limits to you will be warded shut; you may do as you wish within reason." He offered no further explanation as he stepped from the room, drawing the doors together before deciding that it was her room that he needed to inspect. His former childhood room; the bottle indicated that she had clearly found things not meant for her. Damn the inquisitive girl anyway.

He warded his bedroom against her before walking swiftly through the stairwell leading to the room, a flick of his wand opening the door for him, and a tap on the knob warded it locked after he entered. He took a good look around, tapping the wand in his hand before he began to investigate.

  
She could see the sudden change in him all too easily, though he never had been one for hiding his irritation or distaste in someone, something, or a situation. Silently, she stood and listened to his short answer before watching him leave and close the doors behind him. He was set on doing something specific, that much was obvious, as was his desire for her to not be near him at that time. Hermione continued to stand in the room pointlessly as she thought over her options, waiting until she felt he would have left the hallway and occupied whichever room he needed to in order to go about his plans.

Slowly, she pulled open the doors and stepped out into the dark hallway. Virgil was near her (under orders, he was not to leave her on her own after the previous night), though she could neither see nor hear him. With great effort, she pushed thoughts of Snape, their morning together, and even what it was he might be doing to the back of her mind and made her way to Eileen's room.  
  
Hermione entered, closing the door behind her, and walked to the back of the chair before calling out to the woman. "Eileen?" she said softly before the photo album on the nearby table caught her eye. She had initially intended on returning the photo she had found in the hidden wall compartment to her room, but while setting the album down to leave the previous night she had instead slipped it between the two back pages. She reached down and picked it up, pulling the photo out before setting it back down. For some reason, she wanted to keep it. It simply felt like it was hers, even though in truth it was not. Like she had done with a book a few days prior, she tucked the photo into the waist of her skirt in the back. Finally looking up, she saw Eileen and smiled.  
  
"Hello, do you mind if I have a look at some of the books in here? He has told me I am free to do as I wish this evening, and that I may have access to them- or at least, whichever ones aren't warded against me." Regardless of having Snape's permission, she still viewed it as Eileen's room, and as such her books, and she wished to have her permission as well.

  
Eileen, on the other hand, had watched the girl handling the photo album, but was unable to see precisely what she was doing. Glancing through it, perhaps? She let nothing show as Hermione turned to address her, instead gracing her with a smile.

"No, please," she said, motioning toward the shelves. "What news?" she asked, watching Hermione and joining her hands before her, concern clear in her tone. "I have heard nothing; when last I saw you both things were..." She left the sentence hanging, knowing that the girl would understand her perfectly well. "Are all things well?"

  
Severus surveyed the room, narrowing his eyes as he searched the wall for the long forgotten patch in the wall where he had hidden his few items. Dropping to one knee before the wall where he remembered it to be, he brushed the old wallpaper with his fingertips, trying to recall what he had placed within the hiding place. The paper gave as he recalled it: two vials (one of which had been broken), a photograph, and... nothing. He frowned as he ripped the paper from the wall, exposing the hole and revealing an empty void. He growled as he stood, turning to look over the contents of the room once again, noting nothing out of the ordinary. Striding to the dresser he opened each drawer in turn, a pointless gesture that revealed nothing- nor did actually moving the furniture.

He exhaled as he looked toward the bed, the last piece of furniture to be moved. This was his room, those were his private things; she did not have the right to touch it, any of it. He had grown soft toward her and it disturbed him greatly. Pulling the bed from the wall revealing nothing of note; no new holes or tears in the wallpaper, no secret areas containing anything familiar. But it was when he lifted the mattress, his intent to simply discover the long lost picture, that a glint of silver caught his attention. With a shove the mattress stood alongside the bed, leaning against the wall; what was revealed was unexpected, particularly considering her assurances of fidelity. Severus lifted the tray, his hand beginning to shake as the uses for it crossed his mind, the other items she had no doubt pilfered in secret also laying exposed.  
  
With a white knuckled grip on the tray, he threw the door open with his other hand, sweeping through in pursuit of the girl. He would have answers for this, she owed him that much.

  
“Thank you," Hermione replied, setting the photo album down gently on the table. She had already started to turn away, having previously decided which shelves she would like to have a look at first when Eileen asked how things were. She hesitated slightly, then turned back to face the woman in the painting with a soft expression.

"I think everything is alright, for now." Surely, being shown the large greenhouse and given access to it was a testament to how things between her and Snape were going. Though he had left her quickly earlier, she did not worry overly so about it. He obviously had business outside of dealing with her day in and day out, and he certainly had a sense of priority. She was curious, yes, but there was no true cause to worry. Not yet, at least.  
  
She left her reply short and once more turned back to the section of books she was interested in. After a bit of inspection, she had learned that most of the books on the top two shelves were warded against her. This was a bit troublesome, as there were a great deal of them she had been the most interested in. A generous amount of tomes with ominous titles were also unavailable to her, which included every single volume having to do with blood magic or pacts. Hermione had not read up on such things previously, and now that she saw the sheer number of books Snape personally owned on the matter, she found herself wishing she had not ignored the subject in the past.  
  
Hermione had seated herself in the chair facing Eileen, a pile of eight books by her on the table and a ninth open in her lap. She had not been reading for very long before a noise coming from further back in the house caught her attention. It started low, but quickly grew louder and louder. Hermione realized within a few short moments what the source of the noise was; Snape was thundering up through the house, coming closer to the room second by second. Either he was in a terrible rush or incredibly displeased with something, and given the overall situation, the odds were against her if the latter possibility was the issue.

Wasting no time, she laid the book next to the other eight and stood, quickly apologizing and excusing herself as she left the room; Hermione did not wish to upset Eileen with any more drama, should that be the case. She closed the door behind her and barely managed to vacate the hallway, returning to the room he had left her in before he had reached her.

  
Severus stormed into the room, eyes narrowing as he found Hermione in the room he had previously left, looking entirely too innocent. He knew better though, based upon what he had discovered in her room. Without a word he tossed the tray to the floor before her, dark eyes not straying from her face. He wished to see her every thought reflected upon her face, no doubt he would see her memories and thoughts in a moment.

"You've been busy, I see," he said in a low, threatening tone, walking slowly to circle her. "Trust indeed. Were you thinking that you might free yourself with this?" He motioned to the tray resting on the floor, "Perhaps try to repeat your earlier attempt to incapacitate me?"  
  
He ended his movements to stand before the girl, hand near his wand in case she decided to do something foolish, such as attempting to escape. "You will tell me what you were thinking- do not lie to me, I will see the truth in your mind." He reached out to grasp the back of her neck and pull her to him, "You _will_ show me because you _trust_ me, don't you?"

  
Given not only the manner in which Snape had left her previously, but also how he had come thundering up through the house, Hermione was not all that shocked with his initial entrance. The tray, however, provided plenty of cause for concern; if he had found the tray, then he had found everything else. The books, the bottle, even the pathetic broken-off chair leg. The only thing he'd not have found under the mattress was the photo, and the hand-written potion instructions. She had already made use of one of them, but the others she had since dedicated to memory, and planned on using should the need arise. The photo was on her person. The papers, however...

She did not flinch as the tray came to land within inches of her feet, nor did she look down at it. Her eyes remained on Snape's until he began to circle her. Finally her muscles tensed as she listened calmly to what he had to say, anticipating his touch at any second- but it did not come. Instead, he returned to standing in front of her. She blinked, making a strong effort to keep her mind clouded and difficult for him to access. Her hands came up to push slightly against his chest as he jerked her forward, his long fingers gripping the back of her neck tightly. Her resolve faltered only for a second or two, but eventually remained strong.  
  
"Those objects were obtained and hidden before recent events," Hermione said flatly, her voice low as she tried to remain calm. "My initial intention was to use whatever I could against you, yes. But, things have obviously changed... Had you asked for them- asked if I was hiding anything, I would have handed them over." She held eye contact only a moment longer before flicking her eyes downward to where her hands still rested against his chest.

  
“And your original intention has changed, has it?" he snarled, shaking her to try to force her to bring her eyes back to his. "If that were true, why did you keep these items? Why didn't you surrender them to the elf?" He was sure she was not being entirely truthful, but it didn't matter. He would make her regret her secrets; he would teach her that she could not keep secrets from him.

"You are a fool to think you could possibly incapacitate me. Perhaps you thought I would be merciful, considering.." He let the sentence hang as he pulled her to him with his free hand, watching her intently for any reaction. He leaned to her and whispered in her ear, "You would be mistaken."  
  
He moved his arm from her waist to place that hand on her shoulder instead. "I should not have to ask. You should have told me freely, willingly... and you will show me now why you failed to do so- willingly. Am I correct?" he asked, trying to force her to look at him. If not, there were always potions...

  
Hermione was determined to not look him in the eyes again so soon. Sure, she had her excuses, her stories. None were direct lies, though they did attempt to either stretch or hide the truth. Everything between the two had happened so quickly it seemed. One night, she may have been dead set on escaping or lashing out every time he entered the room, yet the next she would be attempting to gain his trust through submission and seemingly being open and completely honest. It all worked towards the same goal in the end; Staying alive, escaping, and eventually being able to secure the safety of the others. The harsh reality of it all was sometimes easy to ignore.

She did not look up as he shook her, and sharply turned her head when pulled to him. "Merciful?" She repeated, training her gaze on the wall closest to them. "Hardly."  
  
She ignored his last.

  
She had evaded the question as easily as she had evaded his eyes, both of which infuriated him. He shoved her away from him, not paying attention to whether she landed well or not. Instead he withdrew his wand and, with a small gesture, summoned a bottle of Veritaserum to his hand. A small vial, as he needed no great amount; she would tell the truth, and he would see to it.

"You may not wish to answer truthfully, but you _will_ ," he told her, his tone brooking no room for argument. "You know what this is, and you know what I am to do. You have no choice." He smiled at that thought; a cold, calculating smile that put to rest any thought that it was his better conscience that was in operation now. "You will learn," he told her menacingly as he moved to grab her, intent upon pouring the elixir into her mouth if needed.


	19. Nineteen

The girl had come to anticipate his reactions, specifically when he was about to cast her aside or push back from her quickly; He did this quite a bit. Hermione did stumble, but had thrown an arm out to the wall and caught herself. Her other hand had gone to her wand as he withdrew his, which was initially nothing more than a reflex. Never the less, she kept her hand near it. I cannot harm him with it, she thought to herself, but-  
  
There was very little time to think before he was rushing towards her. She jerked her wand out and up in a circle, casting a strong _Protego_ between the two, having no real idea if it would work and if so, for how long.  
  
"I haven't lied," she insisted as she winced against whatever he might do next, having felt the shield charm deflect him and still his immediate approach.  
  


Severus took a step back, albeit forced due to the protective shield she raised between the two. He growled as he steadied himself, and raised his wand to cancel the charm between them, preparing for whatever she might attempt to accomplish, a low growl forming in the back of his throat.

  
The instant he had steadied himself, Hermione lowered her wand and took a step forward, showing him she was not afraid. Her eyes now firmly set with his, she took a breath and straightened her back.

“As I said, I cannot surrender an idea! I am a human, with rights the same as you!”

Her words caused him to pause slightly. What was she trying to accomplish? He renewed his pursuit of her, grasping her firmly by the back of the neck, his other hand pulling her to him by the waist.

“In this day and age, girl, human rights play little importance, or have you failed to realize that is the horrid truth?”

“So,” she breathed against his shoulder, “you acknowledge it is horrid. Unjust.”

The muscles in his arm twitched slightly at her words. There she was again, making an all-too valid point. One that itched at his mind constantly, even then. He shoved her away and gave her an overly appraising look. He was weighing his options, as was she.

“Acknowledgement of an unjust situation does little to correct said situation-“

“Ah, but it is a start.”

Severus clenched his jaw, hating that yet again she proved her point with very little effort. The truth was it was taking all the effort and bravery she had in her to speak to him in such a manner. In spite of it all, he found himself admiring the girl’s temerity, her nerve, her firm believes. Again, that possessive streak flared within him; how in the world could he ever entertain letting her go? Though, according to her, that was her right. To leave him. Somehow, he doubted she would, though he was not so naive as to assume such a thing. Given their current situation, it made little sense that she would attempt it. But still, her admonition remained. She required respect, basic human rights. He was not above allowing such things, but the problem of the Dark Lord remained.

“Then,” he started in a soft and low voice, “I can assume that you understand my distrust, and what I need.”

Hermione tensed slightly before letting her shoulders fall in silent surrender. She had told him he could look whenever he wished, and she would not be made a liar. True, her initial intent had been betrayal and escape, but he had caused a drastic change in said plans. Whether it was heartfelt or a clever ploy on his part, she could not know, only guess.

With a soft sigh, she steadied herself in front of him, looking directly into his eyes. “Alright, then. Look.”

He considered for a moment, only one. The next he had reached out and grasped her again by the back of the neck. As he took the step to close the gap between them, he lifted the vial slowly in front of her face, one eyebrow quirked.

“Memories can be altered, Miss Granger..” He thumbed the hinged top of the vial back, giving her a look of daring. “You will now willingly tell me the truth, yes?”

Silence fell between them, her eyes watching as he opened the vial. She felt that somehow, he had calmed down to some degree, which greatly aided in her agreement. Hermione nodded.

“Good girl..”

Snape moved his hand from the back of her neck slowly to hold her chin, lifting it softly. As she opened her mouth, he smirked softly before allowing three drops to fall onto her tongue. Once she closed her mouth, he took one step back, releasing his hold on her.

The effect was almost instant, and she tensed slightly as he backed away from her, removing his paralyzing touch. Why must he continue to pull away?

“Miss Granger, who am I?” A test question, simple as it was.

“You are Severus Snape. My lover.”

His eyes widened, his hold on the vial now tight. He had not expected such an answer, not in the least. On one hand, it was entirely true in a physical sense, but the word had more of an emotional leaning in his mind.

“Your lover,” he finally parroted, “simply because we have had sex?”

“No, not.. _simply._ ”

This was hardly the direction Severus had wished to take, and yet he found his mind suddenly far too preoccupied with this new information. He would return to it soon enough, but right then, there was a far more pressing matter.

“Why did you hide away those items? What had you hoped to accomplish with doing such?”

Hermione tilted her head slightly. “I hid them because I did not want you finding them. I had.. hoped to us whatever means I could, in order to regain my freedom. The books, however.. I wished to read.”

Severus set his jaw as he listened to her, half wishing to toss her back into the room, and half wishing to embrace her. He gave a sharp sigh through his nose as he folded his arms across his chest, waiting to make sure she was through.

“What would their purpose have been now, had I not found them?”

She attempted to stand up straight with an air of confidence, but the potion caused her legs to feel quite wobbly.

“Other than to read the books? Nothing. They held no further purpose.”

Her response actually pleases him, causing his smirk to soften just a bit. Suddenly, he took a step forward and wrapped his arm around her waist to steady her.

“The picture you found.. where is it?”

Hermione leaned into his lean frame, thankful for the support and apparent caring. His next question, however, made her frown. For whatever reason, she did not wish to relinquish it. She moaned softly.

“It is here, with me,” she said with a somewhat sad tone before reaching behind her and pulling the photograph from the waist of her skirt. She looked down at it, words forming on her lips before she could think better of it.

“You hate it, don’t you..? This is one of those few things you regret...”  
  


Severus tensed as she reached behind herself and pulled out the photo. Why had she kept it with her, guarded it so? It seemed almost possessive. His calculations were sent reeling, until she spoke. He paused, his hand having reached to take the item from her.

“The photograph, no,” he answered simply before plucking it from her fingers. He spared the image a glance, a faint grimace crossing his features before he regained control of his emotions and looked back to her.

“Once again, Miss Granger, I fear you know too much.”

He swiftly retreated from her, though one hand remained lightly on her waist should she fall. He then turned them and without a second thought tossed the photo into the fireplace.

She winced as she let it be taken from her, and again as she watched its destruction. Slowly, she looked from the fire up to his eyes. She could see the dangerous play of emotions in them, and could not help but hurt for him.

“Do I, though?” Hermione approached him, reaching out to place a hand on his waist. “I simply notice what there is to be noticed, and-“

Her words were quickly cut off. He pulled her to him swiftly, kissing her. Had he even been mad, really? In the flurry of emotions, neither of them could tell anymore. Her arms snaked up around his neck, pulling herself toward him and his kiss, and he in turn had wound both his arms around her waist possessively.

  
Someone so clever, so bright, so powerful.. and apparently feeling as though she was his lover. It would be a seriously cold day in hell before he would ever let this witch go. The thought spurred him on, and he broke the kiss only to lift her off her feet and into his arms.

As he placed her on his bed, he returned to the kiss, not allowing her any time to speak.

She had squeaked just a bit when he lifted her into his arms, but quickly recovered and renewed her grasp around his neck. He was surprising her, that much was clear, but she would not take it for granted. This, apparently, was how he felt. It was raw, and extremely passionate.

He lifted from her slightly, to look into her eyes; still clouded over from the serum. He sighed and placed a kiss upon her cheek.

“You called me your lover, and I asked if that was only due to the fact that we had slept together.” Another kiss, this time on her jaw. “Would you elaborate for me, now?”

Oh, but how torturous he could be with such lovely touches, such calm words..

“Yes, I will.. elaborate.” Hermione swallowed and turned her face up to his. “You have always meant a great deal to me. I have also always cared for you, but now..” She blinked, knowing the words might very well undo everything between them, but she had to say them. She had to be honest.

“But now, now.. I love you.”

Severus paused completely, her words washing over him, both warm and cold. The complete danger their apparent relationship had put them in becoming all too clear in an instant. She loved him. Him. Of all people, it was him. Had he done such a thorough job of controlling her that this was the outcome? As he looked down at her, he found himself highly doubtful that was the case. What had it been, then? As his mind raked over the possibilities, he found it harder and harder to deny her reasoning.

“You.. love me.” He suddenly raised completely from her and looked down at her from an entirely new perspective. Could it be true? It had to be, she was under the effects of the serum. It simply had to be true. In turn, that caused him to question his own emotions for the girl. Could he, possibly, return said feelings?

Without another thought, he pressed his lips to her forehead before pulling back and softly waving his wand over her face. She fell asleep instantly, and he sat admiring the girl beneath him. This could not simply be a ploy on her part. He needed to think.

After covering her, he instructed the elf to look after her as he raised from the bed and made his way to his Mother’s study.

Severus sat in his usual chair in his Mother’s study, one hand raised to his temple as the other absently fingered through the pile of books that had been left- undoubtedly by the girl, on the side table. They were smart choices; a few on Transfiguration, two on wandless magic, and a handful on unconventional potions as well as how their ingredients could be harvested and prepared in somewhat new and interesting ways. Her mind never stopped..

Eileen finally sat forward on her chaise, attempting to catch his gaze. “Something vexes you. What is it?”

He let out a slow sigh before looking to his mother, head still in his hand. “She...” He suddenly let out an irritated huff and sat back roughly into the comfortable chair. “I searched her room. There were.. items that she had hidden away, hoping to use them against me.”

“Items? What sort of items?”

He cast his eyes to the far side of the room in an obvious light show of irritation. “A tea tray. A broken off chair leg. Two books..”

Eileen gave her son a weak smile as she leaned forward a bit more. “No doubt you questioned her about it..?”

“Of course I did,” he hissed, looking back towards his Mother, but not meeting her eyes. “I gave her Veritaserum, which yes, she took willingly.” After giving her a meaningful look, he continued. “She admitted that all items other than the books had been kept in secret with the hopes of somehow gaining her.. freedom. However..”

The woman in the painting listened intently, but when her son did not finish his sentence, she frowned and slowly rose to stand closer to her son.

“However..?”

Severus huffed and lowered his hand from his face, instead clasping them together tightly, his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward towards the other.

“However, that apparently is no longer her objective.” He swallowed hard, still trying to decide not only how he felt about the new information, but also how to tell his Mother about it.

Deciding on a course suddenly, he stood and faced his Mother directly. His expression may have been calm albeit dark, but his eyes did not lie; confusion.

“She said I was her lover. She said she cared for me, and always had. She said..” He looked down just for a moment before returning his gaze to the other. “She said she loves me.”

Eileen had schooled her emotions long enough when it came to those two. She had already known, more or less, what her son was just now realizing as the truth. The woman smiled openly, and placed a hand on the frame closest to her son.

“And she does, my boy. The question I would have you answer is this; do you love her in return?” Again, this she also knew. Of course he did, but he had to come to terms with such a thing on his own.

He watched his Mother intently, his mind lingering on her words. “I told you before, I do not wish to have such a weakness.” Even as he said it, his mind was arguing the point with him.

Eileen smiled softly. “If having love is a weakness, then I’m afraid you will just have to accept that you have said weakness.”

Severus gave a low growl of frustration as he turned from the painting and ran a shaky hand through his hair. “The trouble this puts us both in, it is ludicrous!” He began to pace the study, one hand still in his hair as he thought.

“I do wish you both would get out while you can, the woman offered with a slightly more stern expression.

He rounded sharply on the painting, both his hands raised to his sides. “Besides my OATH, Mother, how would you suggest we do that? Hm?”

Eileen paused, watching the play of emotions on his face. He was not angry at her, nor at Hermione. He was angry at himself; that much had always been clear with him.

“So, your true master dies, and you believe you need still be behooved by the false master. Because of- as you say, an oath you made to him. My son,” she began with a sad sigh, “I know all too well that you regret it. Do you know what good men do when they regret something?” She put another hand on the frame and leaned even closer. “They correct it. You cannot live in regret, to do so is to deny life itself, and you are not the sort to give up, neither are you the sort to let a regret overpower you, and cause you to forget to live.” She straightened and clasp her hands, determination strong in her eyes. “Why did you keep that photograph?”

As he listened to her, he slowly lowered his arms and allowed the chastisement. It was just, fair, and true. All of it. Oh, but how he hated every second of the truth he kept desiring to avoid.

“I kept it because it was a reminder of where I went wrong.”

“That is not healthy, my son. She found it, and as much as she seemed to be protective of it. I would dare say she understood that. If I were to guess as to why she felt that way, I would say it was because she wished to keep such a pain from you.”

Severus cut his eyes to hers, and now pain was evident. “I asked for it, and she gave it back-“

“Yet she was sad to so, wasn’t she?”

“Apparently,” he forced out through gritted teeth. “Before you ask, I threw it in the fire while I held her against me.”

Eileen beamed down at her son. “I am proud of you, but that is just the first step.”

He nodded once, then turned to look over the books she had been wishing to read. His Mother interrupted his thoughts.

“How would you feel, if she was suddenly called before The Dark Lord, and was killed? I would imagine the regret would be immense..”

A thought crossed his mind as she finished, and he rounded the chair and approached the bookshelves. After careful consideration, he pulled down one of the tomes that had been warded. He released the ward, and quickly fingered through it. A blood pact, as simple of an idea as it may be, could prove useful in her protection. She would need to study it carefully.

After placing the new book with the others, he gathered them into his arms and looked up to the painting. He could see in her eyes that she understood him, and what he had decided on. Once again, she gave him a proud smile and nodded to dismiss him.

After placing the books in her room, he corrected the mess he had made of it earlier and returned to his own room. Hermione lay on his bed, comfortable and at peace. How he hated to disturb such an image of tranquility, but time was important.

He sat on the bed beside her, gently brushing a few strands of curly hair from her cheek. As he bent closer to whisper in her ear, he allowed himself to take in her scent. His need for her flared up, strange and new as it was. It was no longer a primal, controlling urge. He fought with his continued inner turmoil over what he already knew to be true, and yet continued to struggle with admitting.

“Hermione..”

The girl stirred softly at his touch, but it was his voice that caused her to wake up completely. He had used her name. He had spoken it only once before, in an equally rare show of apparent emotion. This time, however, there was a completely different edge to his voice which wasn’t there before. It was soft, yet still commanded her attention.

She turned her head towards his, their cheeks brushing together softly. “Yes?”

Hermione could not avoid it- avoid the pull his presence had on her, and without much thought on her part, she reached up to his shoulders and attempted to pull his face towards hers.

Again, how could he resist? Everything in him told him he should, and yet..

Severus tilted his head and pulled back slightly, attempting to see her eyes. They were no longer clouded over from the serum; she was acting on her own desires. Even though they had little time to waste, he quickly decided to allow this of her, and of himself. He allowed her to pull him down to her. The kiss was cautious, relatively innocent in desire. However, the more the seconds passed, the more urgent in need she became.

He grasped her by her upper arms and lifted her to a sitting position, all the while never breaking the kiss. As he moved to remove her shirt, he felt her smile against his lips and growled low in his throat in response.

“This,” he purred against her mouth, “this is what you want- again...”

“And you don’t?” She breathed out, taking it upon herself to begin removing his thin robe.

He growled yet again, this time out of frustration that she kept making a point. The witch was proving to be exactly what he needed; mind, body, and dare he admit it.. soul.

Severus lay in bed, the girl curled comfortably against him, as his fingers lightly traced the scars on her back. The feel of them seemed to help ground him, keeping his mind rooted in the present danger they were both in. She, on the other hand, seemed to take an altogether unnatural comfort in the feeling. It just couldn’t be possible, that she had so quickly not only come to terms with what he had done, but with a sick sort of.. appreciation of sorts of it. And yet, he had offered to remove them- the scars down her back spelling out his name, and she had taken offence to such a suggestion. If he were to use his head clearly, he might have been able to see that her bearing such a mark brought its own sort of protection. However, she had thrown him for a loop- had totally thrown him off and left him utterly confused. She loved him..

Slowly, he raised from the bed and redressed. He wished he could leave her to her rest, but she had a lot of studying to do.

“Get up, Miss Granger.”

Hermione stirred uncomfortably once he had removed himself from the bed. Once he spoke, her eyes shot open and she moved to sit up, undressed and naked. After giving him a quizzical look, she sighed and got out of bed, pulling on her clothing. Once she was proper, she turned to him.

“What now, is this another mood swing?”

He clenched his jaw as she spoke so confidently. If only it were as simple as a ‘mood swing’. After a moments pause, he strode forward and grasped her upper arm- albeit more gentle than he had before, and began to lead her toward the hall.

“You have studying to do, Miss Granger,” he explained as he led her towards the staircase that would take her to her room downstairs. “I have placed the books you showed interest in down in your room, as well as one that might surprise you.” He smirked at that, knowing full well that saying such would cause her to actually wish to go to her room. She was a creature of habit, after all.

She frowned the entire time he was leading her, until he spoke of books- especially the one he felt would surprise her. Indeed, now she could not wait to get back to her room and read them. What could the surprise addition be? Her mind was sent reeling with possibilities. Before she knew it, they were there.

He softly turned her in place to face him. How he wanted to take her in his arms again, though truthfully it hadn’t been that long since he had done so.

He pulled her to him suddenly, bending to speak into her ear. “It is imperative that you pay attention to this new book I have left you.” After placing a soft kiss to the outside of her ear, he released her and stepped back.

Hermione was both confused and excited. Part of her wanted to reach out and pull him back to her, but she also wanted to get to the books and the apparent task he had laid before her. She finally nodded, and took a step back from him. He was being quite serious, though he obviously was making a great effort to be gentle. She would not take it for granted.

“The elf will tend to your needs, but for the moment you are not to leave this room.” His words were almost clipped, as if he regretted something about the situation.

“So, I may not leave the room?”

He grimaced slightly before turning to leave. “You must stay here, for now. I will return before the day is out.”

With that, he swept from the room and closed the door, warding it shut. After giving the elf instructions, he returned to the upper part of the house. After all, he still had correspondences to attend to, and his own research to do.


End file.
